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Leonardo u& Vinci
Note -Books
i Turin
LEONARDO DA VINCI
(DHAWN BV HIMSRI.K)
LEONARDO DA VINCI'S
NOTE-BOOKS
Arranged and rendered into English
with Introductions
BY
EDWARD M C CURDY, M.A.
NEW YORK:
KMPIRK STATE BOOK COMPANY
1923
Copyright
h
Empirt State Book Company
AVANT PROPOS
There are many books of which it may be said
that the world will survive their loss, and there are
others so replete with inspiration that they should
be in the hands of every student of human progress;
for, when it is granted to us to become acquainted,
even to a small extent, with the lives and efforts of
those to whom the world is indebted, when we have
placed before us the record of courageous struggle,
of unwavering fortitude, we are often led to imitate
and strive in accordance with the example set before
us, and so bring to a successful termination what
before promised to be defeat.
There is another advantage as well that comes t
from the study of these intimate records of a man's
life: the broadening of the mental horizon as we
strive to grasp the underlying motives that have pro-
duced such application, such devotion, to aims and
ideals that, for the majority of us, have little or no
drawing power. The very effort we make to under-
stand the force that has commanded such self-
sacrificing consecration to an end that has no attrac-
tion for us, brings us within the circle, and conse-
quently, the influence of a new life, new vistas arc
open before us, and as we assimilate and grow we
achieve one of the greatest things in life; we grow
into furuier understanding of the infinite world of
the human heart, we see things from a different angle;
and the sympathies^ once limited to a narrow sphere,
have broadened out and embraced yet another truth.
So in placing once more before the reading Public
the Note Books of Leonardo da Vinci, we feel that
we are performing a service for which that Public
will feel grateful. The careful study of the work of
one who stands out as one of the world's greatest
intellects, whose prophetic vision was so keen that
it has led to his being qualified as the forerunner of
many aspects of modern scientific' research, can only
be of the greatest value to all those who are inter-
ested in tracing the advance of Human Achievement
and in particular, of studying those rare cases where
the mind has leaped across the boundaries of the age
in which it lived and worked*
EMPIRE STATE BOOK Co.
January, 1923.
PREFACE
THE manuscripts of Leonardo da Vinci afford the chief
existing proof of that extraordinary versatility with
which he has been credited from the time of his earliest
biographers downwards. They comprise the records and
results of his studies in the theory of art and in various
branches of mathematical and natural science, together
with fragments of literary composition of a philosophical
or imaginative character, and in addition much personal
and biographical matter. The manuscripts in their pre-
sent form consist of about twenty note-books and bound
volumes or collections of loose sheets of various sixes,
containing altogether more than four thousand pages.
While on many of these there are only drawings or
scientific diagrams with at most a few words of comment
or explanation, others are covered with minute writing,
which with the rarest exceptions is of the character known
as c left-handed * from the fact of its direction across the
page being from right to left, and which is therefore
most easily read by the use of a mirror. The contents
of these manuscripts, with the exception of such parts
as are contained in the compilation known as Leonardo's
Treatise on fainting^ have up to the present time
only been available to English readers in the edition
ri PREFACE
selected and edited by Dr. Richter. The period of
more than twenty years which has now elapsed since
the appearance of that important work has witnessed
the publication in extenso of all the manuscripts of
Leonardo at Paris and Milan with facsimile reproductions
and transcripts, whilst a part of those at Windsor which
treat of anatomy and the small volume ' on the flight of
birds ' have also appeared in a similar form ; of the
remainder of the Windsor manuscripts photographic
facsimiles have been published. The quantity of material
thus placed within reach of the student is the justification
for a work of the scope of the present one* The above-
mentioned editions have served as my text for the
passages which I have taken from the Codice Atlantico,
the Codice Trivulziano, the manuscripts at Paris and
Windsor, and the volume * on the flight of birds/ In
the case of the manuscript in the British Museum and
those at South Kensington I have worked from the
originals. In the passages from these and from the
Windsor facsimiles I have added a footnote where I
have ventured to adopt a reading somewhat different
from that found in the text as printed by Dr. Richter*
For seven passages taken from the manuscript in the
possession of the Earl of Leicester, I have used the text
given in Dr. Richter's work, and also for some six lines
that occur in the Windsor manuscripts which I have not
been able to locate in the facsimiles ; whilst for two
from sheets in the Christ Church Library at
PREFACE Tii
Oxford I am indebted to the texts in Mr. Sidney
Colvin's Oxford Drawings.
My intention has been to present Leonardo as a
writer, and to include in this work all passages from the
note-books of philosophical, artistic, or literary interest.
From the mass of the scientific writings I have drawn
very sparingly, selecting only a few passages which either
possess a more general interest or which may serve to
illustrate his method of exposition. I have not included
any of those passages which are simply the memoranda
of scientific or mathematical processes, or those of which
the importance is entirely biographical. These latter
chiefly consist of notes of Leonardo's movements and
household expenses, details as to his various commissions,
and fragments of letters relating to the same. I have
also thought fit to exclude the passages purporting to be
letters addressed to the Devatdar of Syria, as their
actual character is a matter of some uncertainty, and
their literary value slight, as compared with the im-
portance of the biographical issue which they raise, and
any adequate discussion of that issue would travel
far beyond the purpose of the present work. I have
not included any of the allegories about animals which
are found in MS* H of the Paris manuscripts, because
they are merely extracts made by Leonardo from early
bestiaries with at most verbal alterations; so also I have
omitted the notes on armour and on methods of warfare
in MS. B, as being derived in like manner from the
viii PREFACE
De re militari of Roberto Valturio. These facts may
serve to suggest some of the difficulties of selection.
The manuscripts were Leonardo's note-books, and as
such they contain much unoriginal matter some of it
no doubt still unidentified taken from various books
which he read.
In the work of translation, trying at times to avoid
the Charybdis of a too literal interpretation, I may have
grounded my barque on the hidden reefs of Scylla which
lie in the outer seas ; but for the most part I have kept
to the shallows.
The illustrations have been prepared from negatives
specially taken for the purpose by Mr- Emery Walker.
They have been chosen primarily with the intention of
showing the degree of exactitude which characterised
Leonardo's study of natural phenomena. I am indebted
to Dr. W. S. Handley for the description of such of
them as are of an anatomical character ; and for repeated
help in the deciphering of various difficult passages of
the text I have to thank Mr- J. A, Herbert, of the
Manuscripts Department of the British Museum,
CONTENTS
PAGE
PREFACE, ........ v
LIST OF PLATES, ....... xi
INTRODUCTION, ....... x
A RECORD OF THE MANUSCRIPTS, .... 25
PROEM, ........ 45
BOOK I. LIFE, ....... 47
BOOK II. NATURE, . . ^ ^ ^ ^ . 85
BOOK III. ART
1. PAINTING, POETRY, AND SCULPTURE, . . 156
2. THE PRECEPTS OF THE PAINTER, . . 163
3. PERSPECTIVE, AND LIGHT AND SHADE, . . 210
4. LANDSCAPE, ..... 236
BOOK IV. FANTASY-
FABLES, ...... 252
PROPHECIES, ..... 267
LIST OF PLATES
(?2* originals <unth the exception of t fa frontispiece art all to fa
found in the Royal Library at Windsor]
LEONARDO DA VINCI, BY HIMSELF, Royal Library^
Turin, Frontiipifc*
*
1. STUDY OF A SKULL IN SECTION, TO SHOW
THE BONY CAVITIES OF THE FACE, . . Face p. 50
This plate represents a skull sawn through in
the median plane. The extreme front portion
of the right half of the skull has been removed
Jby a saw-cut at right angles to the median
plane, so as to display the bony cavities or air
spaces (frontal sinus, and maxillary antrum)
which are present in the facial bones. The
section also displays the nasal duct through
which the tears pass down to the natal cavity.
On the left are seen typical teeth from the
upper jaw: incisor, canine, bicuspid, and
molar, with a full and accurate description
appended. A transcript of the text is to be
found in / Manoscritti # L. aa P. DM
Anatomia, Fog/t , pp. 249-50.
2. STUDIES OF THE DELTOID MUSCLE OF THE
SHOULDER IN VARIOUS ASPECTS, . Fact p. 75
This plate is concerned almost entirely with
the deltoid muscle of the shoulder, which is
represented from various aspects and in various
positions of the arm. The little drawing in
xii LIST OF PLATES
the centre below the middle of the page is not
related, to the one above it, and represents a
dissection of the omo-hyoid muscle arising, as
Leonardo believed, from the clavicle. The text
contains the passages on the nature and number
of the veins, which are to be found on pp. 79
and 80, also an account of the various move-
ments of the neck, and explanations of the
letters which occur on the smaller of the draw-
ings. For transcript, see / Manoscritti di L. da
V. Dell 1 Anatomic Fogti A^ pp. 67-69,
3. STUDIES IN THE ANATOMY OF THE NECK
AND OF THE BONES OF THE FOOT, . . Face p. 78
This plate illustrates the anatomy of (a) the
bones of the left foot, seen from above and from
below; (3) the muscular and other structures
of the neck, seen from various aspects. In one
of the passages of the text Leonardo gives the
number of the bones of the foot as twenty-
seven. For transcript, see / Manoseritti di L.
da V. Dell* Anatomia, Fogli A^ pp. 75-6.
4. STUDIES OF A SKULL IN MEDIAN SECTION, Face p. 84
In the upper drawing half the vault of the
skull has been removed in order to show, the
cranial cavity,
In the lower drawing the skull and the upper
part of the spinal column are seen in a section
through the mid-plane of the body. The spinal
column appears to be unnaturally straight. The
lines on the drawing are to show Inter alia that *
the point about which the skull rotates is one
third the vertical distance from the level of the
chin to the level of the crown of the head.
For transcript, see / Manosmtti di L* da V.
Dell' Anatomia, Fogli 3, p. 243.
5. LANDSCAPE WITH CLOUD EFFECT, . - Fact p. 125
6. PAGE OF MS. * FOR THE SHRINE OF VENUS '
(Pel slto di Vtnert\ TOGETHER WITH ARCHI-
TECTURAL STUDIES AND SKETCH OF
NEPTUNE WITH HIS HORSES, . . . Fact p. 131
The heads and legs of horses seen at the base
of the standing figure show its connection
with the composition of Neptune in his chariot
drawn by sea-horses, which, according to Vasari,
Leonardo drew for Antonio Segni. The head
of the horse on the right recalls the larger
spirited study for the same composition at
Windsor (Grosvenor Gallery Portfolio No. 48)
From a note on the last-named drawing ' abassi
i cbavalli* (make the horses lower), it may be
inferred that the plate represents the later of
the two versions. Leonardo was apparently
dissatisfied with an arrangement in which the
position of the figure suggests a charioteer quite
as much as it does a deity, and altered it to
represent the god in an erect position. The
figure has a considerable similarity to that of
the David of Michelangelo, but is not impro-
bably of earlier date.
7, GENISTA TINCTORIA (Dytrf Grecnwecd) AND
ACORNS AND LEAVES OF THE STALKED
OAK (Qucrcus Robur Pedunculata\ . . Fact p. 163
8, STUDY OF DRAPER v OF KNEELING FIGURE, Fact p. 186
9. BRAMBLE (Rubus Fruticosus), * * . Fact p. 212
10. GROVE OF SILVER BIRCHES, . . . Fact p. 243
ix. STUDY OF TREE, Aw .248
12. COLUMBINE (Aquihgla Vulgarn\ . . . Face p. 262
13. RANUNCULUS REPENS (Creeping
ORNITHOGALtm UMBELLIFERUM (Star of
Bethlehem), ANEMONE NEMOROSA (Wood
Anemone\ EUPHORBIA ESULA (Leafy-Branched
Spurge), ....... Face p. 274
LEONARDO DA VINCI'S NOTE-BOOKS
INTRODUCTION
THE unknown author of Aetna at the outset of his song
disclaims all sympathy with the fictions of poets who
represent the mountain as the forge of Vulcan, the kilns
of the Cyclops, or the mound beneath 'which lies the
giant Enceladus breathing smoke and flame. Fables all t
And the bards who utter them not content with earth as
their province think to tell of the wars of the Gods, and
the shapes which Jove assumes !
His work shall treat of Aetna itself, not the legends
about it. His purpose is to trace the mighty workings
of nature as revealed in the mountain's hidden fires.
This he proceeded to do with scientific thoroughness ;
yet it would seem that the reservation pressed somewhat
hardly upon the poetic instinct ; so soon as ever his
purpose was accomplished the muse led him back in
apparent contentment to the scorned fables.
An analogy at best a partial thing may here serve
to break the shore-ice of the sea of conjecture. The
early biographers of Leonardo da Vinci cultivated the
picturesque with an almost metrical licence. Their
narratives, which together constitute what Pater has
termed the legende, are as inadequate to reveal his work
and personality, as the fables of Vulcan's forge and
a INTRODUCTION
the like are unsatisfying as an origin for Aetna's fire.
Moreover, in the different aspects which Aetna has
assumed to the imagination, seeming at first a caprice of
the Gods and a thing of rhapsody, and subsequently as
the tenor of thought changed a field for the scientific
study of the forces of nature, there is presented a contrast
no less sharply defined, and in its main features somewhat
closely corresponding to that presented by the personality
of Leonardo as shown in the earliest biographies and in
the light of modern research. For the capricious
volatile prodigy of youthful genius which the legends has
bequeathed, the latter has substituted a figure less
romantic, less alluringly inexplicable, but of even more
varied and astonishing gifts. His greatness as an artist
has suffered no change, but modern research has revealed
the ordered continuity of effort which preceded achieve-
ment. It has made manifest how he studied the
structure of the human frame, of the horse, of rocks,
and trees, in order the better to paint and make statues,
in that his work would then be upon the things he knew,
and no sinew or leaf would be conventional, but taken
directly from the treasury of nature; since the artist
should be * the son, not the grandson of nature/
This habit of scientific investigation in inception sub-
sidiary to the practice of his art so grew to dominate it
as to gradually alienate him from its practice to the study
of its laws, and then of those which govern all created
nature. The fruits of these studies lay hidden in manu-
scripts, of which the contents have only become fully
known within the last quarter of a century. So by a
curibus appositeness he is associated in each age with the
INTRODUCTION 3
predominant current of its activity. His versatility in
the arts caused him to seem an embodiment of the spirit
of the Renaissance. Alike as painter, sculptor, architect,
engineer, and musician, he aroused the wonder and
admiration of his contemporaries. But to them, the
studies which traversed the whole domain of nature, pre-
figuring in their scope what the spirit of the Renaissance
should afterwards become, were so imperfectly compre-
hended as to seem mere trifles, ghiribizzi,' to be
mentioned apologetically, if at all, as showing the wayward
inconstancy of genius, and with regret on account of the
time thus wasted which might have been spent on
painting. Modern savants have resolved these trifles,
and in so doing have estimated the value of Leonardo's
discoveries and observations in the realms of exact
science. They have acclaimed him as one of the greatest
of savants : not in completed endeavour which of itself
reached fruition, but in conjecture and prefigurement of
what the progress of science has in course of centuries
established. Such conjecture, moreover, was not
grounded in fantasy, but was the harvest of a lifetime of
study of natural phenomena, and of close analysis of
their laws. Anatomist, mathematician, chemist, geologist,
botanist, astronomer, geographer, the application of
each of these titles is fully justified by the contents of
his manuscripts at Milan, Paris, Windsor, and London.
To estimate aright the value of his researches in the
various domains of science would require an almost
encyclopaedic width of knowledge. In respect to these
Leonardo himself in his manuscripts must be accounted
his own best biographer, in spite of what may appear the
4 INTRODUCTION
enigmatic brevity of some of his statements and infer-
ences. It is not possible to claim for him originality in
discovery in all the points wherein his researches antici-
pated principles which were subsequently established.
So incomplete is the record of the intellectual life of
Milan under the Sforzas, which has survived the storms
of invasion that subsequently broke upon the city, as to
cause positive statement on this point to be wellnigh
impossible ; something, however, should be allowed for
the results of his intercourse with those who were
occupied in the same fields of research. We are told
that at a later period he was the friend of Marc Antonio
della Torre who held the Chair of Anatomy in the
University of Pavia, and that they mutually assisted
each other's studies- He was also the friend of Fra
Luca Pacioli the mathematician, and drew the diagrams
for his De DMna Proportion^ and the two were com-
panions for some time in the autumn and winter of
1499, after leaving Milan together at the time of the
French invasion. Numerous references and notes which
occur throughout the manuscripts show that he was
indefatigable in seeking to acquire knowledge from
every possible source, either by obtaining the loan of
books or treatises, or by application to those interested
in the same studies. From the astrologers then to be
found at Ludovic's court Ambrogio da Rosate and the
othersr-he learnt nothing- He rated their wisdom on
a par with that of the alchemists and the seekers after
perpetual motion. His study of the heavens differed
from theirs as much in method as in purpose* His
instruments were scientific! and even at times suggestively
INTRODUCTION $
modern. The line in the Codice Atlantico * construct
glasses to see the moon large ' (fa occhiali da vedere la
luna grande) refers, however, only to the use of magni-
fying glasses ; the invention of the telescope is to be
assigned to the century following.
At the commencement of the sixteenth century, the
Ptolemaic theory of the Universe was still held in
universal acceptance. Leonardo at first accepted it, and
in his earlier writings the earth is represented as fixed,
with the sun and moon revolving round it. He ended at
some stage further on in the path of modern discovery.
On a page of mathematical notes at Windsor he has
"written in large letters, c the sun does not move * (il sole
no si muove).
He has been spoken of as the forerunner of Bacon, of
James Watt, of Sir Isaac Newton, of William Harvey.
He cannot be said to have anticipated the discoveries
with which their names are associated. It may, however,
be claimed that he anticipated the methods of investiga-
tion which, when pursued to their logical issue, could
not but lead to these discoveries.
The great anatomist Vesalius, after having given up
his Chair of Anatomy in 1561 in order to become the
court physician at Madrid, spoke of himself as still
looking forward to studying c that true bible as we count
it of the human body and of the nature of man/ Sir
Michael Foster takes these words as^the keynote of the
life-work of Vesalius: c the true bible to read is nature
itself, things as they are, not the printed pages of Galen
or another; science comes by observation not by
authority. 9 In method Leonardo was the forerunner
6 INTRODUCTION
of Vesalius, and consequently of William Harvey, whose
great work was the outcome of Vesalius's teaching. No
passage in his writings constitutes an anticipation of
Harvey's discovery. He knew that the blood moved
just as he also knew that the sun did not move, but the
law of the circulation of the blood was as far beyond
the stage at which his deductions had arrived as was the
discovery of Copernicus. It was his work to establish,
even before the birth of Vesalius, that * science comes
by observation not by authority/ Yet he was no mere
empiric. He knew the authorities. He quotes in his
manuscripts from Mundinus's Anatomia, and he must
have known the work of Galen to which Mundinus
served as an introduction. At a time when the Church
* taught the sacredness of the human corpse, and was
ready to punish as a sacrilege the use of the anatomist's
scalpel/ Leonardo practised dissection ; and he suffered
in consequence of his temerity, since it was subsequent
to the malicious laying of information concerning these
experiments that the withdrawal of the papal favour
brought about his departure from Rome in 1515. Of
such temerity the anatomical drawings are a rich harvest.
The pall of authority was thrown aside ; the primary need
was for actual investigation, and of this they are a record.
He would agree, he says, as to it being better for the
student to watch a demonstration in anatomy than to see
his drawings ' if only it were possible to observe all the
details shown in these drawings in a single figure; in
which, with all your ability, you will not see nor acquire
a knowledge of more than some few veins, while, in
order to obtain an exacc and complete knowledge of
INTRODUCTION 7
these, I have dissected more than ten human bodies,
destroying all the various members and removing even
the very smallest particles of the flesh which surrounded
these veins, without causing any effusion of blood other
than the imperceptible bleeding of the capillary veins.*
It was after his examination of these drawings that
the great anatomist Dr. William Hunter wrote that he
was fully of opinion that c Leonardo was the best
Anatomist at that time in the world.'
Coleridge called Shakespeare c myriad-minded.' If the
Baconian contention were established the result would
afford a parallel to the myriad-mindedness of Leonardo.
Morelli speaks of him as * perhaps the most richly gifted
by nature among all the sons of men.' Equally emphatic
is the tribute of Francis i. recorded by Benvenuto
Cellini : c He did not believe that any other man had
come into the world who had attained so great knowledge
as Leonardo, and that not only as sculptor, painter, and
architect, for beyond that he was a profound philosopher/
In regard to this undefined, ungarnered knowledge the
prevalent note of the early biographers is frankly the
marvellous. To us his personality seems to outspan
the confines of his age, to project itself by the inherent
force of its vitality down into modern times and so to
take its due place among the intuitive influences of
modern thought. To them on the other hand his
personality projecting beyond the limits of his own age
seemed to stretch back into the age of legend, to gather
something of its insouciance and its mystery. The figure
never sufficiently to be extolled for beauty of person
wandering through princes' courts improvising songs,
8 INTRODUCTION
bearing a lute as a gift from one patron to another, and
pkying upon it in such skilled fashion that that alone
out of all the arts of which he had knowledge would
suffice as 'open sesame* to win him welcome, seems
indeed rather to have its habitation in Provence at the
close of the twelfth century than to be that of a contem-
porary and fellow-citizen of Macchiavelli and Savonarola.
In lieu of any such period of toilsome apprenticeship as
Vasari's biographies lead us customarily to expect, there
seems almost a Pallas-like maturity at birth* The angel
painted by him when an apprentice causes his master to
abandon the use of the brush, in chagrin that a mere
child had surpassed him ; and so, in like manner, we are
told that a monster which he painted on a shield filled
his own father with dismay. Unsatisfied with this
mastery of the arts he sought to discern the arcana of
nature; and whither the quest had led him it was not
for a mere biographer to say. But each will help you to
conjecture, with hints more expressive than words, and
less rebuttable. Leonardo's scornful references to the
pretended wisdom of alchemists, astrologers, and necro-
mancers lay hidden meanwhile in the manuscripts, not
available to contravene such suppositions.
The personality as represented in the early biographies
is substantially that which is expressed in the phrase of
Michelet * Leonard, ce frere italien de Faust/ It tells
of him that he chose rather to know than to be, and
that curiosity led him within the forbidden portals ! It
represents in fact the popular mediaeval conception of
scientific study. Much of the modern aesthetic appreci-
ation is in its essential conception a more temperate
INTRODUCTION 9
re-statement of the same point of view. Errors or at
any rate some of them ! are corrected in the light of the
results of critical research from Amoretti downwards :
the outlook nevertheless remains that of Vasari and
the Anonimo Fiorentino ! Ruskin's dictum, that * he
debased his finer instincts by caricature and remained to
the end of his days the slave of an archaic smile, 9 is at
one with the opinion of the folk of Wittenberg who
lamented Faust's use of the unhallowed arts which had
made him Helen's lover. The true analogy Ifes not with
Faust but with Goethe, between whom and Leonardo
there is perhaps as great a psychological resemblance as
ever has existed between two men of supreme genius.
In each the purely artistic and creative faculties became
subordinate, mastered by the sanity of the philosophical
faculties.
In each alike the restless workings of the human
spirit desiring to know> ranged over the various mediums
of artistic expression, tempered them to its uses, and
finally passed on, looking beyond the art to the thought
itself, unsatisfied with what even in its perfection of
utterance was but a pale reflex of the phenomena it
would observe. The two parts of Goethe's Faust drama
symbolise the gradual change of purpose, and may
perhaps serve to represent Leonardo's two spheres of
activity. Verrocchio's bottega and all the influences of
the art world of Florence in the Quattrocento were for
him tutelage and training, as the mediaeval chap-book
legends and the newly arisen literature of the Romantic
School were for the poet of Weimar. The result in
each case was limpid, serene, majestic, for the elements
10 INTRODUCTION
which had gone to the making of it, had been fused
molten in the flame-heat of genius. Yet the man behind
the artist is still unsatisfied. He never shares the artist's
accomplishment with such measure of absorption as
characterised Raphael and Giovanni Bellini. He has
something of the aloofness of Faust. There is that
within him which art's appeal to the senses never kindled
into life, never impelled to utter to one of its moments
the supreme shibboleth of Hedonism, ' Stay, thou art so
fair.' All the allurements of the mediaeval chap-book
legend were revealed in the first part of the Faust drama,
then, this invocation being as yet unuttered, the thinker
essays the problem. No beaten footsteps as before in
this new avenue of approach ! No clear limpidity of
ordered effort ! Titanic energy struggles p linfully amid
the chaos of dimly-perceived primaeval forces. The re-
sult even the very effort itself according to much
critical opinion, was an artistic mistake.
The same judgment was passed on Leonardo's work
as philosopher and scientist by the earliest of his bio-
graphers. Yet in each case the thinker is nearer to the
verities. Faust is regenerated by the service of man
from out of the hell of mediaeval tradition. It was the
cramping fetter of mediaeval tradition upon thought
which Leonardo toiled to unloose. It was his aim to
extend the limits of man's knowledge of himself, of his
structure, of his environments, of all the forms of life
around him, of the manner of the building up of the
earth and sea, and of the firmament of the heavens.
To this end he toiled at the patient exposition of natural
things, steadfastly, and in proud confidence of purpose.
INTRODUCTION n
* I wish/ he says, * to work miracles ; I may have fewer
possessions than other men who are more tranquil and
those who wish to grow rich in a day.'
Inchoate and comparatively barren of result as was
his investigation of natural phenomena, it nevertheless
was actual investigation, and it attained results. We
may instance the passages in the manuscript at Holkham
Hall, in which the fact of fossil shells being found in the
higher mountain ridges of Lombardy, is used by a pro-
cess of deductive reasoning, to show how at one time
the waters covered the earth. The hypothetical argu-
ment'that the presence of these shells is to be attributed
to the Flood, he meets by considering the rate of the
cockle's progress. It is a creature possessed of no swifter
power of motion than the snail has when out of water.
It cannot swim, but makes a furrow in the sand by
means of its sides, and travels in this furrow a space of
three to four braccia daily, and by such a method of
progression, it could not in forty days have travelled
from the Adriatic to Monferrato in Lombardy, a distance
of two hundred and fifty miles. Neither is it a case of
dead shells having been carried there by the force of the
waves, for the living are recognisable by the shells being
in pairs. Many other passages in the manuscripts might
be cited to show by what varied paths he anticipated the
modern methods of scientific investigation. The words
which Pater uses of the Renaissance of the fifteenth
century, * in many things great rather by what it de-
signed or aspired to do than by what it actually achieved *
applicable to Leonardo in respect of his work as an
artist, are no whit the less applicable in reference to his
12 INTRODUCTION
work in science. Painting and sculpture filled only two
of the facets of a mind, which, as a crystal, took the
light from whatever quarter light came. As, however, it
was in these arts that he accomplished most, so such of
his writings as treat of them are on the whole the most
practical. In science, for the most part he heralded the
work of others ; in respect to his writings on art, we
may apply to him the words which Diirer uses of himself
in a similar connection, c what he set down with the pen
he did with the hand.* It is this very factor of experi-
ence working in the mind, which at times causes an
abrupt antithesis in the transition from the general prin-
ciple to discussion of the n\eans whereby it should be
realised. His work may perhaps be considered to lose
somewhat of its literary value in consequence, but it
acquires an almost unique interest among treatises on art
by its combination of the two standpoints of theory and
practice. Of this, one of the most striking instances
occurs in a passage which is only to be found in the
recension of the Treatise on Painting in the Vatican
(Ludwig, cap. 180), Leonardo there sums up, tritely
and profoundly, what should be the painter's purpose, * a
good painter has two chief objects to paint, man and the
intention of his soul, the former is easy the latter hard ' ;
after which follows the eminently reasonable, if perhaps
unexpected explanation, * because he has to represent it
by the attitudes and movements of the limbs * ; and the
knowledge of these he proceeds to say should be acquired
by observing the dumb, because their movements are
more natural than those of any other class of persons.
This very practical direction how to approach towards
INTRODUCTION 13
the realisation of an apparently abstract aim is entirely
characteristic of his intention. The supreme misfortune,
he says, is when theory outstrips performance. This
essential practicality of mind brought about the result that
in the more abstract portions of this branch of his writings
his zest for first principles is most apparent. The sun, the
origin of light and shade, is recognised as the first artist,
and we are told that * the first picture consisted merely
in a line which surrounded the shadow of a man cast by
the sun upon a wall'; and the comparison of poetry and
painting resolves itself into a consideration of the relative
importance of the senses to which the two arts make
their appeal*
It is perhaps in the passages which indicate the
manner in which particular scenes and actions should be
represented in art that Leonardo's powers as a writer
find their most impressive utterance. His natural in-
clination impelled him to the contemplation of the vast
and awe-inspiring in nature ; but in these terse, vivid,
analytic descriptions, the consideration of the ultimate
purpose operates throughout to restrain and co-ordinate.
The descriptive passage entitled c the way to represent a
battle,* in which the effect is built up entirely by fidelity
of detail, forms indeed a veritable triumph of realism.
There can be no possibility of difference of opinion as to
how Leonardo regarded warfare. It was a grim neces-
sity, and he was himself busied on occasions in devising
its instruments; but he had no illusions as to its real
nature, he characterises it elsewhere as a * bestial frenzy '
(bestiallissima pazzia). Here, however, he never suffers
his pen to digress from the work of simple description.
i 4 INTRODUCTION
To generalise would be alien to his purpose, which is to
show how to portray a battle in progress. Consequently
he shows what it is that is actually happening amid the
clouds of dust and smoke and the rain of gunshot and
falling arrows ; and describes tersely, graphically, relent-
lessly the passions and agonies of the combatants as
shown in their faces and their actions, the bitterness of
the deaths of the vanquished, the fury and exhaustion
of the victors and the mad terror of the horses, since
these should find a place in the work of whosoever would
represent war ; < and see to it,* he says in conclusion,
'that you make no level spot of ground that is not
trampled over with blood.* The passage enables us in
part to realise what he sets himself to represent in the
picture of the Battle of Anghiari, It is, however, far
more than a mere note for a picture. It possesses an
interest and value apart either from this fact or from
the mastery in the art, of writing which it reveals. Its
ultimate value is moral and didactic. He forbears to
generalise but constrains the reader in his stead. His.
description is of the identical spirit which has animated
the creations of Tolstoi and Verestchagin, Like these
Leonardo seems to seek to make war impossible, by
showing it stripped of all its pageantry and trappings, in
its naked and hideous reality.
The passages which describe a tempest and a deluge
and their representation in painting possess the same
vigorous realism and fidelity of detail, and contain some
of Leonardo's most eloquent and picturesque writing ;
and among the other notes connected with pictures we
may instance that for the * Last Supper/ descriptive of
INTRODUCTION 15
the actions of the disciples, which, although of far
slighter mould than any of the passages already referred
to, yet possesses a restrained but very distinct dramatic
power. These same qualities may be discerned perhaps
even to more advantage in one of the very rare comments
on public events which are to be found in his writings.
After Ludovic Sforza's attempt to regain possession of
Lombardy had ended with his defeat and capture at the
battle of Novara in April 1500, Leonardo wrote among
notes on various matters, * The Duke has lost his State,
his possessions, and his liberty, and he has seen none of
his works finished/ (II Duca perse lo Stato e la roba
e la liberta, e nessuna sua opera si fini per lui.) Leonardo
was a homeless wanderer in consequence of the events
referred to, and one of the works of which the duke
had not witnessed the completion was that of the statue
on which Leonardo had been engaged intermittently
during sixteen years, and the model of which had served
as a target for the French soldiery ; but this terse im-
passive comment is the only reference to these occurrences
found in his writings. There is a certain poignant brevity
and concentration in the sentence which suffices even to
recall some of the most inevitable lines of Dante.
It is within the narrow limits of the short sentence
and the apothegnji that Leonardo's command of language
is most luminous. In some of these the thought ex-
pressed is so wedded to the words as scarcely to suffer
transference. *0osa bella mortale passa e non d'arte*
is a type of the almost untranslatable ; so also * Si come
unc giornata bene spesa dA lieto dormire cosi una vita
benc usata di lieto morire ' must lose something of its
l6 INTRODUCTION
grace in any rendering. Certain of these sentences
record the phenomena of nature so simply as to cause
us almost to doubt whether they are intended to do
more than this. 'All the flowers which see the sun
mature their seed, and not the others, that is those which
see only the reflection of the sun,' is perhaps written as
an observation of nature without thought of a deeper
meaning ; but it is hard to suppose that a similar restric-
tion applies to the sentence c tears come from the heart
not from the brain/ although it is found in a manuscript
which treats of anatomy.
It would seem that it was natural to him as a writer
to use words as symbols and figuratively, thus employing
things evident and revealed in metaphor. Of this habit
of veiled utterance the section of his imaginative writings
known as prophecies affords the most impressive and
sustained series of instances. Some few of these are, as
their name implies, a forecast of future conditions ; many
attack the vices and abuses of his own time. In the
succinct, antithetical form of their composition Leonardo
apparently created his own model.
There are questions more intimate than any of those
which arise from the consideration of his achievement
in these various arts and sciences; questions which
the mere number of these external interests, tends to veil
in comparative obscurity, causing us to regard Leonardo
almost as a resultant of forces rather than as an individual,
to see in him as it were an embodiment of the various
intellectual tendencies of the Renaissance, as though the
achievements were the man! The figure crosses the
stage of life in triumph, playing to perfection many parts !
INTRODUCTION 17
But of these enough ! Let us try to come nearer, to get
past the cloak of his activities, and essay to c pluck the
heart out of this mystery.* As a means towards this end,
let us consider his attitude with regard to certain of the
problems of life.
His writings inculcate the highest morality, though
rather as a reasoned process of the mind than as a revela-
tion from an external authority. He preserves so com-
plete a reticence on the subject of doctrinal belief as to
leave very little base for inference as to his faith or lack of
faith. The statement of Vasari that he did not conform
to any religion, deeming it better perhaps to be a philoso-
pher than a Christian, was omitted in the second edition
of the Lives, and may therefore be looked upon as
probably merely a crystallisation of some piece of Flor-
entine gossip. It would be idle to attempt to surmise
as to the reason of the withdrawal. To whatever cause
it may have been due, its significance is no whit the less
as outweighing a mass of suggestion and vain repetition
on this subject by later writers. In temperament Leo-
nardo has something akin to certain of the precursors or
the Reformation. In any conflict between the dictates
of reason and of authority, he would be found on the
side of freedom of thought. * Whoever,' he wrote, * in
discussion adduces authority uses not his intellect but
rather memory/
The " cast of his mind was anti-clerical. His in-
dignation at the abuses and corruption of the Church
found expression in satire as direct and 'piercing as that
of Erasmus. His scorn of the vices of the priesthood,
of their encouragement of superstition, of the trade in
18 INTRODUCTION
miracles and pardons, which is eloquently expressed in
the section of his writings known as c the prophecies/
may not unnaturally have earned for him the title of
heretic from those whom he attacked- His quarrel lay,
however, not with the foundations on which faith rested,
but with what he conceived to be its degradation in
practice by its votaries. His own path lay along the
field of scientific inquiry ; but where the results of this
research seemed at variance with revealed truth, he
would reserve the issue, disclaiming the suggestion of
antagonism. Nature indeed cannot break her own laws.
The processes of science are sure,~but there are regions
where we cannot follow them. *Our body is subject
to heaven, and heaven is subject to the spirit/ So at
the conclusion of a passage describing the natural origin
of life, he adds, ' I speak not against the sacred books,
for they are supreme truth.* The words seem a protest
against the sterile discussion of these things. There is
indeed a reticence in the expression of the formulas of
faith, but the strands of its presence may be seen in the
web of life.
The impelling necessity to use life fully is the ever
recurrent burden of his moral sayings :
* Life well spent is long.*
'Thou, O God, dost sell unto us all good things at the price
of labour.'
*As a well-spent day brings happy sleep, so life well used
brings happy death/
This vision of the end is steadfast. Death follows
life even as sleep rounds off the day, and as we work
well in the day, so sleep when it comes is happy and
INTRODUCTION 19
untroubled. During the passing of the day there is so
much to be done, such opportunity to construct and to
observe, so much knowledge to be won about this world
wherein the day is passed, that there is scarce time re-
maining in which to stand in fear and wonder at thought
of what chimeras the coming shadow may hold within it.
It is better to use to-day than to spend it in questioning
of to-morrow. Duty in life is clear and we must follow
it. When he speaks of what comes after, it is with that
hesitance common to all, unless to speak of it be made
habituate by custom, for to all, whatever be their belief,
there yet remains something unknowable in the condi-
tions of the change.
In one of the most beautiful passages of his writings,
a fragment on time, the destroyer Leonardo de-
scribes Helen in her old age as looking into her mirror
and seeing there the wrinkles which time had imprinted
on her face, and then weeping, and wondering why she
had been twice carried away. Beautiful as is the descrip-
tion, the hand which penned it is pre-eminently that of
the scientist ; we seem to see the anatomist at work with
the scalpel, so minute is the observation therein revealed
as to the effect of age and of the relentless approach of
death upon the human frame.
The frequent recurrence in his writings and in his
drawings and grotesques of the physical tokens of decay
and death argues, however, no morbid predilection such as
was that shown by the painters of the danse macabre. It
forms a proportioned part of his study and c patient ex-
position* of the origin and development of the whole
20 INTRODUCTION
there is no incursion of the personal note. His attitude
is always that of an observer, looking with curious eyes,
noting all the phenomena of physical change, but yet
all the while preserving a strange impassivity. He never
in any of his works or in his manuscripts gives the
suggestion of possessing any of that regret at the passing
of time which rings through Giorgione's sun-steeped
idyls. Indeed, from all such lament, he expressly dis-
sociates himself. Time, he assevers, stays long enough
for those who use it. The mere fact of the inevitability
of death forbids regret. It therefore cannot be an evil.
He speaks of it as taking away the memory of evil, and
compares it with the sleep which follows after the day.
The thought of this sleep brings silence : when on rare
occasion the silence is broken, he stands with Shake-
speare and Montaigne, revealing, as they do, when they
address themselves to the same question, a quiet confi-
dence, serene and proud.
The author of Virginibus Puerisque discoursing whim-
sically upon the incidence and attributes of the tender
passion, professes his utter inability to comprehend how
any member of his own sex, with at most two exceptions,
can ever have been found worthy to be its object. * It
might be very well,' he says, < if the Apollo Belvedere
should suddenly glow all over into life, and step forward
from the pedestal with that god-like air of his. But of
the misbegotten changelings who call themselves men
and prate intolerably over dinner-tables, I never saw one
who seemed worthy to inspire love no, nor read of
any except Leonardo da Vinci and perhaps Goethe in his
INTRODUCTION 21
The suggestion as to the Apollo Belvedere is in entire
harmony with the associations of the names which follow.
For if it had ever come to pass, as is conjectured in
Heine's fantasy, that the gods of Greece, after their
worship ceased, fallen on days of adversity, and con-
strained to baser uses, had walked the earth as men, surely
no lives whereof record holds had come more naturally to
Apollo's lot than would those of Goethe and Leonardo !
It would be vain to attempt to find better instances,
yet these give only a capricious support at best to
Stevenson's contention. They afford far more proof
of his amazing temerity in attempting to view the
kingdom of sentiment from the feminine standpoint.
These two names he ranks together in isolation from the
rest of their sex and this in respect precisely of that
condition wherein the records of their lives reveal the
least resemblance. Goethe was as susceptible and almost
as fickle as Jupiter himself. The story of his heart is a
romance with many chapters, each enshrining a new name,
and all ending abruptly at the stage at which the poet
remembers at times somewhat tardily the paramount
claims of his art.
But in the case of Leonardo there are no grounds for
supposing that any one such chapter was ever begun. None
of his biographers connect his name with that of any
woman in the way of love, nor do his own writings afford
any such indication. They show that he lived only for
the things of the mind. He would seem to have re-
nounced deliberately all thought of participation in the
tenderness of human relationship. He looked upon it
as alien to the artist's supreme purpose : he must
22 INTRODUCTION
needs be solitary in order to live entirely for his art.
His conception of the mental conditions requisite for
the production of great art presupposes something
of that isolation expressed in Pater's phrase: *each
mind keeping as a solitary prisoner its own dream of
a world/
The praise of solitude has ever been a fecund theme,
although much of the fervour of its votaries has resulted
in little more than a reverberation of the monkish jingle,
c O heata solitudo, O sola beatitudo/ In so far as praise
of solitude is dispraise of the world and fellow-men and
the expression of desire to shun them and their activities
it is a sterile thing and worse. Solitude is unnatural
and only the use of it can justify the condition. May
be that even then the dream will never come to birth !
Certain it is that if it does we must suffer the pangs
alone!
Concentration of the* mind comes by solitude ; and
in this, according to Leonardo, its value to the artist
consists. (Se tu sarai solo tu sarai tutto tuo.)
*If you are alone you belong entirely to yourself,
If you are accompanied even by one companion you
belong only half to yourself, or even less in proportion
to the thoughtlessness of his conduct . . . If you must
have companionship choose it from your studio ; it may
then help you to obtain the advantages which result from
different methods of study/
Such companionship of the studio implies some such
measure of equality of attainment as it can never have
been his own lot to meet with after leaving the circle of
Verrocchio and the art world of Florence. His own
INTRODUCTION 23
later companions of the studio were his pupils and
servants, and the only one of these whom he admitted
to any degree of personal intimacy was Francesco de*
Melzi, who seems to have stood to him in the concluding
years of his life almost in the position of 'a son to a
father.
Behind all his strength lay springs of tenderness ; in
life confined within the strait limits whereby his spirit
proposed that its work should be more surely done, in
his art they are manifest, therein revealing the repression
of his life. His pictures are now so few that it would
be to his drawings that we should chiefly look for support
of this statement, and of these primarily perhaps to the
many studies for Madonna pictures, and the sketches of
children made in connection with them ; also, however,
to the two versions of the composition of the Madonna
and Child with S. Anne. The differences between that
in Burlington House and that in the Louvre show the
artist's gradual growth of purpose. One motive, how-
ever, is found in both, namely, that the Madonna is
represented as so entirely absorbed in her Child that she
is entirely unconscious of aught else. With the excep-
tion of the Madonna della Seggiola, and perhaps certain
others of Raphael's Madonnas, there is no Madonna
picture in Italian art in which the conception is more
human or the ecstasy of motherhood is rendered with
greater tenderness. So Tart console de la vie'; and
the same may be said in Leonardo's case of nature
perhaps even more truly than of art. If indeed any
thought of consolation can be suffered in connection
with a life so confident and full ! For man's work is
24 INTRODUCTION
his ultimate self. Such human hopes as begin and end
in the individual are puny even in their highest fulfil-
ment, and the processes of nature, whatever their final
end, seem eternal in contrast with their transience. He
interpreted man's highest aim to consist in seeking to
know and to hand on the lamp of knowledge.
The task of the student who should attempt to discern
Leonardo amid the mass of tradition was compared with
that ascribed to himself by the author of Aetna. In one
of the noblest and most eloquently sustained passages of
that work, the poet characterises the investigation of
the forces of nature, and of the various phenomena of
earth, sea, and sky, as the highest of all the objects of
intellectual effort, and one which constituted in itself its
own highest reward. The lines serve as a description
of Leonardo's purpose, and his writings reveal how far
this purpose was accomplished.
Non oculis solum pecudum miranda tucri
More, nee effusos in humum graue pascerc corpus,
Nosse fidcm rcrum dubiasquc cxquirerc causas,
Ingenium sacrarc caputqir attollerc caelo,
Scire quot ct quae smt magno natalia mundo
Principia, occasus mctuunt an saccula pergunt, . . ,
Et quaecumque iaccnt tamo miracula mundo
Non disiecta pati, ncc aceruo condita rcrum,
Sed manifesta notis certa dibponere scdc
Singula, diuina ebt animi ac iucunda uoluptas
A RECORD OF THE MANUSCRIPTS
IN the opening lines of the volume of manuscript notes
* begun at Florence in the house of Piero di Braccio
Martelli, on the 22nd day of March, 1508,' now in
the British Museum (Arundel MSS. 263), Leonardo
explains the method of its composition. The passage
may serve to summarise the impression made by the
whole mass of Leonardo's manuscripts. * This,' he says,
* will be a collection without order, made up of many
sheets which I have copied here, hoping afterwards to
arrange them in order in their proper places according
to the subjects of which they treat ; and I believe that
before I am at the end of this 1 shall have to i epeat the
same thing several times ; and therefore, O reader,
blame me not, because the subjects are many, and the
memory cannot retain them and say "this I will not
write because I have already written it " ; and if I wished to
avoid falling into this mistake- it would be necessary, in
order to prevent repetition, that on every occasion when I
wished to transcribe a passage I should always read over
all the preceding portion, and this especially because long
periods of time elapse between one time of writing and
another.' Certain pages in the volume of manuscript in
the British Museum would indeed seem to be of a much
earlier date than this introductory sentence, and the
whole body of the manuscripts as may be shown by the
25
26 A RECORD OF THE MANUSCRIPTS
time-references contained in them, extend over a period
of some forty years, from Leonardo's early manhood to
his old age. He commenced them during the time of
his first residence in Florence, and was still adding to
them when at Amboise.
The contents of this * collection without order * are so
diversified as to render wellnigh impossible any attempt
at formal classification. In addition to the numerous
fragments of letters, the personal records, the notes
relating to his work as an artist, and the fragments of
imaginative composition which are to be found therein,
it presents by far the most complete record of his mental
activity, and this may be said without exaggeration to
have extended into practically all the avenues of human
knowledge. These manuscripts serve in a sense to show
the mind in its workshop, busied in researching, in
making conjecture, and in recording phenomena,
tempering to its uses, in so far as human instrument
may, the vast forces of nature.
He projected many treatises which should embody the
results of these researches. Notes in the manuscripts
themselves record the various stages of their composition.
Some still exist in a more or less complete form. Of
the "fragments of others the order of arrangement is now
only a matter of conjecture. In the manuscripts at
Windsor, which treat mainly of anatomy, a note, dated
April 2, 1489, speaks of writing the book * about the
human figure/ The manuscript given to the Ambrosian
Library by Cardinal Federico Borromeo, now MS. C. of
the Institut de France, which is a treatise on light and
shade, contains a note that * on the ^3rd day of April
A RECORD OF THE MANUSCRIPTS 27
1490, I commenced this book and recommenced the
horse' the latter reference being to the equestrian
statue of Francesco Sforza. In August 1499 a note in
the Codice Atlantic states that he was then writing
< upon movement and weight* These dates are, how-
ever, of relatively less importance, because each of these
subjects occupied his thoughts during a long period of
years. The two first formed a part of the artist's com-
plete equipment as Leonardo conceived it : the third
found practical issue in his undertakings in canalisation
and engineering in Lombardy, Tuscany, Romagna, and
elsewhere. In connection with the former of these two
divisions of his activities may be cited the treatise on the
nature of water in the possession of the Earl of Leicester,
and the same subject is also treated of among others in
MS. F. of the Institut, which, according to a note, was
commenced at Milan on the lath of September 1508.
The manuscripts as a whole are picturesquely described
in the diary of a certain Antonio de Beads, the secretary
of the Cardinal of Aragon, who with his patron visited
Leonardo at Amboise in October 1517. The many
wanderings of the painter's life were then ended, and he
was living with Francesco Melzi and his servant Battista
de Villanis in the manor house of Clcux, the gift of
Francis r. The diary relates that he showed his guests
three pictures, the S. John, the Madonna with S. Anne,
and the portrait of a Florentine lady, painted at the
request of Guiliano de* Medici, which cannot now be
identified. It further states that paralysis had attacked
his right hand, and that therefore he could no longer
paint with such sweetness as formerly, but still occupied
28 A RECORD OF THE MANUSCRIPTS
himself in making drawings and giving instruction to
others. (May the inference be that he then drew with
the left hand? If so he presumably used it in the
manuscripts, which are written backwards.)
'This gentleman has/ he continues, 'written of
anatomy with such wealth of detail, illustrating by his
art both limbs and muscles, nerves, veins and ligaments
of the inward parts, and of all that may be demonstrated
in the bodies of men and of women, in a way that has
never before been equalled by any one else. And this
we have seen with our own eyes, and he has also told us
that he has dissected more than thirty bodies of men
and women of all different ages. He has also treated of
the nature of water, of various machines, and of other
matters which he has dealt with in an endless number of
volumes, and all in the common tongue, which when they
are made public will be profitable and very delectable/
This description of the manuscripts the only one by an
eyewitness during Leonardo's lifetime leads naturally
to the supposition that, if not all, at any rate by far the
greater part of them were in Leonardo's possession at
the time that he went to France, and were at Cloux at
the time of his death.
The manuscripts then passed into the possession of
Francesco Mclzi, to whom Leonardo in his will, dated
April 23, 1518, bequeathed * in return for the services and
favours done him in the past/ * each and all of the books
of which the said Testator is at present possessed, together
with the other instruments and portraits which belong to
his art and calling as a Painter/ Melzi returned to
Milan shortly after Leonardo's death and took the
A RECORD OF THE MANUSCRIPTS 29
manuscripts with him, and four years later a certain
Alberto Bendedeo, writing from Milan to Alfonso d'Este,
said that he believed that the Melzi whom Leonardo made
his heir was in possession of c such of his notebooks as
treated of anatomy and many other beautiful things/
Vasari visited Milan in 1566, and he states that Melzi,
whom he saw, and who was then c a beautiful and gentle
old man/ possessed a great part of Leonardo's papers of
the anatomy of the human body and kept them with as
much care as though they were relics. Some of the
manuscripts had already at this time passed into other
hands, for Vasari refers to some which treated of painting
and methods of drawing and colouring as being then in
the possession of a certain Milanese painter whose name
he does not mention. The care which had been taken
of those in Melzi's possession ceased at his death, which
occurred in 1570. Some years later no restriction was
placed by Melzi's heirs upon the action of a certain
Lelio Gavardi di Asola, a tutor in the Melzi family, who
took thirteen of the volumes of manuscripts with him to
Florence for the purpose of disposing of them to the
Grand Duke, Francesco. The duke's death, however,
prevented the realisation of this project, and Gavardi
subsequently took the volumes with him to Pisa.
Giovanni Ambrogio Mazzenta, a Milanese who was
then at the University of Pisa studying law, remonstrated
with Gavardi upon his conduct, and with such success
that on Mazzenta's return to Milan in 1587 he took the
volumes with him for the purpose of restoring them to
the Melzi family. When, however, he attempted to
perform this duty Dr. Orazio Melzi was so astonished
jo A RECORD OF THE MANUSCRIPTS
at his solicitude in the matter that he made him a present
of all the thirteen volumes, telling him further that there
were many other drawings by Leonardo lying uncared
for in the attics of his villa at Vaprio. In 1590
Giovanni Ambrogio Mazzenta joined the Barnabite
Order and the volumes were then given by him to his
brothers. They seem to have talked somewhat freely
about the incident, and in consequence, according to
Ambrogio Mazzenta's account, many people were filled
with the desire to obtain similar treasures, and Orazio
Melzi gave away freely drawings, clay models, anatomical
studies, and other precious relics from Leonardo's studio.
Among the others who thus came into possession of
works by Leonardo was the sculptor Pompeo Leoni who
was employed in the service of the King of Spain. He
afterwards induced Orazio Melzi, by the promise of
obtaining for him official honours and preferment, to
appeal to Guido Mazzenta, in whose possession they then
were, to restore the volumes of Leonardo's manuscripts
so that he might be enabled to present them to Philip n.
Melzi's entreaties were successful in obtaining the return
of seven volumes, and three of the others subsequently
passed into Pompeo Leoni's possession on the death of
one of the Mazzenta. Of the remaining three, accord-
ing to Mazzenta's account, one was given to the Cardinal
Federico Borromeb, and passed into the Ambrosian
Library, which he founded in 1603 ; another was given to
the painter Ambrogio Figini, who afterwards bequeathed
it to Ercole Bianchi ; it was subsequently in the possession
of Joseph Smith, English Consul at Venice, and with
the sale of his effects in 1759 a ^ record of it ends ; the
A RECORD OF THE MANUSCRIPTS 31
third was given to Charles Emmanuel, Duke of Savoy,
and nothing further is known as to its history. Professor
Govi has conjectured that it was perhaps burnt in one of
the fires which occurred in the Royal Library at Turin in
1667 or 1679.
Some of the volumes of the manuscripts which had
passed into the possession of Pompeo Leoni were after-
wards cut in pieces by him in order to form one large
volume from the leaves, together with some of the
drawings which he had obtained from Melzi's vittk at
Vaprio, This volume, known as the Codice Atlantico
on account of its size, contains four hundred and two
sheets and more than seventeen hundred drawings, and
bears on its cover the inscription :
DISEGNI DI MACHINE ET
BELLE ART! SECRETI
ET ALTRE COSE
DI LEONARDO DA VINCI
RACOLTI DA
POMPEO LEO
NI
Apparently the collector's instinct proved stronger in
Pompeo Leoni than his original intention. He was
subsequently in Madrid where he was engaged in execut-
ing bronzes for the royal tombs in the Escurial, but there
is no evidence to show that he ever parted with any
of Leonardo's manuscripts to Philip n/ The Codice
Atlantico remained in his possession until his death
in 1 6 10, and then passed to his heir, Polidoro Calchi, by
whom it was sold in 1625 to Count Galeazzo ArconatL
Two of Leonardo's manuscripts in Pompeo Leoni's
3 z A RECORD OF THE MANUSCRIPTS
possession were included among his effects sold after his
death at Madrid, and were then bought by Don Juan
de Espina. It would seem probable that others of the
manuscripts in Pompeo Leoni's possession descended to
his heir Calchi, and from him passed into the possession
of Count Arconati, because the latter in 1636 pre-
sented twelve volumes of Leonardo's manuscripts to
the Ambrosian Library at Milan. The volume which
Mazzenta had given to Cardinal Federico Borromeo had
already been placed there in 1603, and in 1674 yet
another volume of Leonardo's manuscripts was added by
the gift of Count Orazio Archinti.
Of the list of twelve manuscripts as described in Count
Arconati's deed of gift to the Ambrosian Library, the
second was afterwards lost, and the fifth was removed
from the Library, it being, as the description shows,
identical with the manuscript of Leonardo's which in
about the year 1750 was bought from a Gaetano Caccia
of Novara by Carlo Trivulzio and is now in the posses-
sion of Prince Trivulzio at Milan. The remaining ten
manuscripts of the Arconatz donation, together with
the two from Cardinal Federico Borromeo and Count
Archinti respectively, were in the Ambrosian Library
until 1796. There was then also with them a manuscript
of ten sheets which treated of the eye, the provenance of
which is unknown, but which it is conjectured had been
substituted for the manuscript now in the collection of
Prince Trivulzio. These thirteen manuscripts were all
remove^ .0 Paris in the year 1796 in pursuance of the
decree of Bonaparte as General-in-Chief of the Army of
nf -jo Florcal An IV. (May 19, 1796), providing
A RECORD OF THE MANUSCRIPTS 33
for the appointment of an agent who should select such
pictures and other works of art as might be worthy of
transmission to France. The Codice Adantico was in
the Bibliotheque Nationale at Paris in August 1796.
The other twelve volumes of the manuscripts were
deposited in the Institut de France. In 1 8 1 5 the Austrian
Ambassador, as representing Lombardy, made application
for the return of all the Leonardo manuscripts. The
request was complied with as regards the Codice
Atlantico, which was then restored to the Ambrosian
Library at Milan, but the twelve volumes in the library
of the Institut de France were apparently overlooked,
and there they have since remained.
On their arrival in France the manuscripts were
described by J. B. Venturi, who then marked them with
the lettering whereby they have subsequently been dis-
tinguished. He gave their total number as fourteen,
because MS. B contained an appendix of eighteen pages
which could be separated and considered as the four-
teenth volume.
This manuscript is identical with No. 3 in the Arconati
donation, which is described as having at the end a small
* volumetto * of eighteen pages containing various mathe-
matical figures and drawings of birds. This * volumetto '
seems in fact to have been treated somewhat as Venturi
suggests by Count Guglielmo Libri, who frequently had
access to the manuscripts in the Institut de Fhuice in the
early part of last century, and who apparently abstracted
it at some time previous to 1848, at which date its loss
was discovered. In 1868 it was sold by Libri to Count
Giacomo Manzoni of Lugo, and in 1892 it was acquired
34 A RECORD OF THE MANUSCRIPTS
from Count Manxoni's heirs by M. Sabachnikoff, by
whom it was published in the following year as // Coaice
sul Vok degll Uccetti (edit Piumati and Sabachnikoff,
Paris, 1893).
Two other manuscripts by Leonardo of sixty-eight
and twenty-six pages respectively, now in the Biblio-
thfeque Nationale (Nos. 2038 and 2037), must have
originally formed part of the manuscripts A and B of the
Institute. They tally both in the dimensions of the pages
and in the subjects of which they treat, and their total
numbers added to those of Manuscripts A and B respec-
tively do not amount to quite the full numbers of the
leaves which these two manuscripts possessed in 1636,
as described in the list of tl * Arconati donation*
The two manuscripts in the Bibliothique Nationale
were formerly in the collection of the late Earl of
Ashburnham, who purchased them in 1875 from Count
Libri, from whom, as we have seen, Count Manzoni had
purchased the little volume *on the Flight of Birds/
The mutilation of Manuscripts A and B of the Institute
and the removal of the * volumetto * was first discovered
in the year 1848. It is impossible to avoid the inference
that each was the work of Count Libri. The two
manuscripts of the Bibliotheque Nationale have been
included in the edition of the manuscripts of the Institute
published in facsimile, with a transcript and French
translation by M. Ravaisson-Mollien, in six volumes
(Paris, 1880-1891).
The Codice Atlantico has also now been published in
facsimile, with a transcript, under the direction of the
Accademia dci Lincei, at Rome (1894- 1904); and the
A RECORD OF THE MANUSCRIPTS 35
manuscript in the possession of Prince Trivulzio, which
was formerly as we have seen in the Ambrosian Library
as one of the Arconati bequest, has been published in
facsimile with a transcript by Signer Beltrami (Milan,
1892).
We may now consider the Arconati bequest from
another standpoint. The count's munificence was com-
memorated in the following inscription, which was set in
marble on the wall of the staircase of the Ambrosian
Library :
Leonard! . Vincii
manu . et * ingenio . celeberrimi
lucubrationum . volumina . XII
babes . o . civis
Galeaz . Arconatus
inter . optimates . tuos
bonarum . artium . cultor . optimus
repudiatis . regio . animo
quos . angliae . rex . pro . uno . tantum . ofFerebat
aureis . ter . mille . hispanicis
ne . tibi . tanti . viri . deesset . ornamentum
bibliothecae . ambrosianae . consecravit
ne . tanti . largitoris . deesset . memoria
quern * sanguis . quern . mores
Magno . Federico , fimdatori
adstringunt
bibliothecae . conservatores
posuere
anno MDCXXXVII
*The glorious (boasting) inscription* so described
in the Memoirs of John Evelyn has naturally attracted
the attention of English travellers. Evelyn records his
failure to obtain a sight of the manuscripts when he
visited Milan in 1646, owing to the keeper of them
3 6 A RECORD OF THE MANUSCRIPTS
being away and having taken the keys, but states that
he had been informed by the Lord Marshal, the Earl
of Arundel, that all of them were small except one
book, a huge folio containing four hundred leaves * full
of scratches of Indians/ and * whereas/ he says, e the in-
scription pretends that our King Charles had offered
1000 for them, my lord himself told me that it was
he who treated with Galeazzo for himselfe in the name
and by the permission of the king, and that the Duke of
Feria, who was then Governor, should make the bar-
gain : but my lord having seen them since did not think
them of so much worth/ The inscription, however,
does not mention the name of the king. Addison, in
his * Remarks on Several Parts of Italy/ in describing his
visit to Milan in 1701, mentions the Ambrosian Library
as containing c a manuscript of Leonardus Vincius, wich
King James i. could not procure, tho' he profer'd for it
three thousand Spanish pistoles'; and the monarch in
question is also stated to have been James r. in the
fuller record of the Arconati donation. The Duke of
Feria was Governor of Milan from 1610 to 1633,
during a part of the reign of both monarchs.
Apparently, however, the manuscripts only passed
into the possession of Count Arconati in 1625, the
year of the death of James i., and this renders it more
probable that the monarch referred to was Charles r.
But the question of under which king has relatively
little import, and with regard to the inscription, it may
perhaps be well to recall the dictum of Dr, Johnson, * in
lapidary inscriptions a man is not upon oath/ The only
A RECORD OF THE MANUSCRIPTS 37
instance is that the manuscripts by Leonardo now in the
Royal Collection at Windsor did not- form part of the
Arconati Collection. This is also confirmed by the
testimony of Lord Arundel, as recounted by Evelyn.
That some of the Leonardo manuscripts at Windsor
were once in the possession of Lord Arundel is estab-
lished by the fact of the existence of an engraving of
one of the drawings by Hollar, whom Lord Arundel
brought from Prague and established in London, in-
scribed * Leonardus da Vinci sic olim delineavit. W.
Hollar fecit ex collectione Arundeliana.' That some of
these Windsor manuscripts were also formerly in the
Collection of Pompeo Leoni is clearly shown by the
fact that one of the volumes is inscribed * Disegni di
Leonardo da Vinci Restaurati da Pompeo Leoni/
Now two of the manuscripts in Pompeo Leoni's col-
lection were, as has been already stated, purchased in
Madrid after his death by Don Juan de Espina ; and
Mr. Alfred Marks, from whose important contribu-
tions to this branch of the subject in the Athenaeum of
February 23 and July 6, 1878, many of the foregoing
facts are derived, has shown that for one at any
rate of these volumes, the Earl of Arundel was in
treaty with Don Juan de Espina. The evidence of this
is to be found in a note by Endymion Porter, of the date
1629, printed by Mr. Sainsbury in his Original Unpub-
lished Papers illustrative of the Life of Rubens : * of such
things as my Lord Embassador S r Francis Cottington is
to send out of Spain for my Lord of Arondell ; and not
to forget the booke of drawings of Leonardo de Vinze
w ch is in Don Juan 4 de Espinas hands * (p. 294). Don
38 A RECORD OF THE MANUSCRIPTS
Juan seems for a time to have proved obdurate, for Lord
Arundel wrote on January i9th, 1636, to Lord Aston,
who was then ambassador to Spain, * I beseech y u be
mindfull of D. Jhon. de Spinas booke, if his foolish
humour change' (p. 299). There the record breaks off.
But as Mr. Marks truly observes, there can be little doubt
that eventually a change did take place in Don Juan's
c foolish humour/ At whatever date this happened, the
volume passed into Lord Arundel's possession. The
earl may either have been negotiating for himself or for
the king. If the former was the case, the book may
presumably have passed into the Royal Collection at any
time after 1646, when on the death of Lord Arundel,
his collections were partially dispersed. If not acquired
previously, the volume may have been bought in Holland
by an agent of Charles n.
The earliest record of any of Leonardo's manuscripts
or drawings as being in the royal possession occurs in
an inventory found by Dr. Richter in the Manuscript
Department of the British Museum, which states that
some drawings of Leonardo da Vinci, marked with a
cross, were delivered for her Majesty's use in the year
1728. ,
Dr. Richter also cites a note in an inventory at
Windsor Castle written at the beginning of last century,
in which a drawing of Leonardo's is referred to as not
having been in the volume compiled by Pompeo Leoni,
but in one of the volumes in the Buoufiluolo Collection
bought at Venice. Nothing, apparently, is known about
the collection here referred to, but the note is important
as tending to prove that the manuscripts by Leonardo
A RECORD OF THE MANUSCRIPTS 39
now at Windsor, were not all acquired at the same
time, and did not all form part of Pompeo Leoni's
collection.
The volume of manuscript now in the British Museum
(Arundel MSS., 263) was certainly once in the possession
of Lord Arundel. Nothing is known of its history
previous to this, and whether or no it belonged to
Pompeo Leoni, or was acquired by purchase from Don
Juan de Espina, it would be idle to attempt to con-
jecture. Lord Arundel had numerous agents in various
parts of Europe, who were- employed in collecting
antiquities and works of art. It may, however, be noted
that the greater part of his collection of manuscripts vas
acquired by the earl himself at Nuremberg in 1636,
and had formerly belonged to Wilibald Pirkheimer the
humanist, the friend of Erasmus and Durer. If any
opportunity presented itself to him, Pirkheimer would
certainly have possessed himself of any manuscript of
Leonardo's ; but to suppose him to have done so would
be to assume that some of the manuscripts passed into
other hands during Leonardo's life-time, and this, though
by no means impossible, is at any rate improbable.
The only other manuscripts by Leonardo now known
to exist, with the exceptions' of a few separate sheets of
sketches and diagrams with explanatory text, are three
small note-books in the Forster Library at South Ken-
sington, and a volume of seventy-two pages in the
possession of the Earl of Leicester at Holkham Hall.
The former were acquired in Vienna for a small sum by
the first Earl of Lytton and by him presented to Mr.
Forster ; the latter, according to a note on the title-page,
40 A RECORD OF THE MANUSCRIPTS
once belonged to the painter Giuseppe Ghezzi, who was
living in Rome at the beginning of the eighteenth century,
it having presumably been acquired by the first Earl of
Leicester, who spent some years in Rome previous to
1775, anc * there acquired many art treasures. Its
previous history is unknown. This volume a treatise
on the nature of water is in all probability that referred
to by Rafaelle du Fresne in the sketch of Leonardo's
life which appears in his edition of the Trattato ddla
Pittura, published in Paris in 1651, where it is stated
that * the undertaking of the canal of the Martesana was
the occasion of his writing a book on the nature, weight,
and motion of water, full of a great number of drawings
of various wheels and engines for mills to regulate the
flow of water and raise it to a height.'
Of such of the manuscripts at Windsor as treat of
anatomy, two volumes with facsimiles, transcripts, and
translations have been issued by Messrs. Piumati and
Sabachnikoff (Paris, 1898), (Turin, 1901), The rest of
the manuscripts at Windsor and the other manuscripts
in England have not as yet been published, though fac-
similes of those at Windsor and of portions of those
in London have been issued in a series of volumes by
Rouveyre.
As Leonardo's fame as a writer has chiefly rested upon
the treatise on Painting, it may not be out of place here
to attempt to state the relation which this work bears to
the original manuscripts.
The treatise was first published by Rafaelle du Fresne,
in Paris, in 1651, a French translation by Roland Freard
sieur de Chambrai being also issued in the same year-
A RECORD OF THE MANUSCRIPTS 4
Du Fresne derived his text from two old copies of
MS. 834 in the Barberini Library, which manuscript
has now presumably been transferred to the Vatican,
at the same time as the other contents of that Library.
One of these copies had been made by the Cavaliere
Cassiano del Pozzo, who had given it in 1640 to M.
Chanteloup, by whom it was presented to du Fresne for
the preparation of his edition ; the other was lent him
for the same object by M. Thevenot.
Another edition of the Treatise was issued in 1 8 1 7 by
Guglielmo Manzi, who took as his text a manuscript in
the Vatican Library (Cod. Vat. (Urbinas) 1270), which
had formerly belonged to the Library of the Dukes of
Urbino. This manuscript is by far the more complete
of the two, five out of the eight books which it contains
being wanting in the version followed by du Fresne.
There are, however, many omissions in Manzi's edition,
and the only adequate critical edition of the Vatican
manuscript is that published by H. Ludwig (Leonardo
da Find: Das Buck von der Malerei (Bd. xv-xviii
of >uellenschriften ftir Kunstgeschichte, etc., Edit. R.
Eitelberger v. Edelberg), Vienna, 1882, Stuttgart 1885).
This contains the complete text, together with a German
translation and commentary, and also an analysis of the
differences which exist between the manuscripts in the
Vatican and Leonardo's own manuscripts.
The Vatican manuscript probably dates from the
beginning of the sixteenth century. It has been ascribed
to some immediate pupil of Leonardo's, for choice either
Francesco Melzi or Salai,, but there is no evidence which
can be held to establish this view. Its close connection
42 A RECORD OF THE MANUSCRIPTS
with Leonardo is however indisputable. Whether this
be the original form or no, the compilation was un-
doubtedly made previous to the dispersal of the manu-
scripts. About a quarter of the whole number of
paragraphs (two hundred and twenty-five out of nine
hundred and forty-four) are identical with passages in
the extant manuscripts. Many others, which are not
now to be found in any form in the manuscripts, yet
carry their lineage incontestably, and would afford a
sufficient proof, were this lacking in the chequered history
of the various volumes, that some of the manuscripts
have now perished ; that, as with Leonardo as painter so
also as writer, time has spared only the fragments of his
work. The compiler of the Treatise on Painting had
access to manuscripts, and probably also to sources of
information as to the artist's intentions, of which we have
no record. He presumably followed what he conceived
to be the scheme of the artist's work. Nevertheless,
Leonardo cannot be adjudged directly or even indirectly
responsible for the arrangement and divisions of this
treatise, and it is somewhat difficult to credit him with
the whole of the contents. Certain of the passages read
rather as repetitions by a pupil of a theme expounded by
the master.
Did Leonardo himself ever give his work definite
shape ? Did he write a treatise on painting or only parts
of one ? In Fra Luca PaciolPs dedication to Ludovic
Sforza of the De Divina Proportion, dated February 9,
1498, he speaks of Leonardo as having finished *il Libro
de Pictura et movimenti humani,' and Dr, Ludwig, who
apparently accepts this statement, puts forward the
A RECORD OF THE MANUSCRIPTS 43
supposition that the treatise was in the possession of
Ludovic and probably became lost at the time of the
French invasion of Milan.
On this same occasion, according to both Vasari and
Lomazzo, there also perished a treatise by Leonardo on
the anatomy of the horse, which he had written* in the
course of his studies for the Sforza statue.
Vasari, as we have seen, mentions some writings by
Leonardo c which treat of painting and of the methods of
drawing and colouring ' as being then in the possession
of a Milanese painter, who had recently been to see him
in Florence to discuss their publication, and had taken
them to Rome in order to carry his intention into effect,
though with what result Vasari could not say. These
writings are stated to be c in characters written with the
left hand, backwards/ and therefore they cannot possibly
be identical either with the Barberini or the Vatican
manuscript Seeing that Vasari wrote during Melzi's
lifetime, it is reasonable to infer that this manuscript had
at an early date become separated from the others and
therefore did not form part of the general mass of the
manuscripts which passed into Melzi's possession at
Leonardos death, since Vasari states that he kept these
as though they were relics. As to whether this manu-
script was identical with the work to which Fra Luca
Pacioli referred, there is no sufficient evidence on which
to form an opinion. Moreover, the Prate's testimony
must not be interpreted too literally. The words of the
dedication of the De Divina Proportions would naturally
also suggest that the statue of Francesco Sforza was
actually cast in bronze, but the general weight of evidence.
44 A RECORD OF THE MANUSCRIPTS
including that of Leonardo's own letters, forbids any
such supposition. So, in like manner, it may perhaps
have been that in the case of the treatise on Painting he
may have spoken of the rough drafts and fragments as
though they were the completed work.
The work itself grew continually in the mind of the
author. It was moulded and recast times without number
as his purpose changed and expanded in his progress
along each new avenue of study that revealed afresh the
kinship of art and nature. It is certain that he never
wrote c finis.' It is at any rate possible that he never
halted in investigation for so long time as would be
necessary to arrange and classify what he had written
that he left all this to a more convenient season. Genius,
we should remember, is not apt to be synthetic.
NOTE. In the references to the manuscripts which follow
the following abbreviations occur :
C. A. SB Codice Adantico.
A y B, etc., to 7, and K y L, Af=MSS. A y 5, etc., to /, and
K y L) M of the Library of the Institut de France.
MSS. 2037 and 2038 Bib. A7W. = Nos. 2037 and 2038,
Italian MSS. Bibliotheque Nationale.
5Tr, = Codice Trivukiano.
jB. M, 263 Ar.~ British Museum, Arundel MSS. No, 263.
S. K. M, i-fiisa South Kensington Museum (Forster
Bequest) MSS. I-IIL
Leic. SB MS. in possession of Earl of Leicester.
. = Richter, J. P., Literary Works of L, da V-
PROEM
SEEING that I cannot choose any subject of great
utility or pleasure, because my predecessors have already
taken as their own all useful and necessary themes,
I will do like one who, because of his poverty, is
the last to arrive at the fair, and not being able other-
wise to provide himself, chooses all the things which
others have already looked over and not taken, but
refused as being of little value. With these despised
and rejected wares the leavings of many buyers
I will load my modest pack, and therewith take my
course, distributing, not indeed amid the great cities,
but among the mean hamlets, and taking such reward
as befits the things 1 offer.
(C, A. 119 v. a.)
*,
I am fully aware that the fact of my not being
a man of letters may cause certain arrogant persons
to think that they may with reason censure me,
alleging that I am a man ignorant of book-learning.
Foolish folk ! Do they not know that I might retort
by saying, as did Marius to the Roman Patricians.
* They who themselves go about adorned in the labour
of others will not permit me my own.' They will
say that because of my lack of book-learning, I
cannot properly express what I desire to treat of.
45
46 PROEM
Do they not know that my subjects require for their
exposition experience rather than the words of others ?
And since experience has been the mistress of who-
ever has written well, I take her as my mistress, and
to her in all points make my appeal.
(C. A. 119 &. a.)
BOOK I
LIFE
THOU, O God, dost sell unto us all good things at the
price of labour. (Windsor MSS. R 1133.)
I obey thee, O Lord, first because of the love which
I ought reasonably to bear thee ; secondly, because thou
knowest how to shorten or prolong the lives of men.
(S. K. M. in. 29 r.)
Our body is subject to heaven, and heaven is subject
to the spirit (Tr. Tav. 65 a.)
The soul desires to dwell in the body because without
the members of that body it can neither act nor feel.
(C. A. 59 r. t.)
How admirable thy justice, O thou first mover ! Thou
hast not willed that any power should lack the processes
or qualities necessary for its results. (^ 24 r.)
Instrumental or mechanical science is the noblest and
above all others the most useful, seeing that by means of
it all animated bodies which have movement perform all
their actions ; and the origin of these movements is at
the centre of their gravity, which is placed in the middle
with unequal weights at the sides of it, and it has
47
48 OF THE SOUL AND THE BODY
scarcity or abundance of muscles and also the action of a
lever and counter levfer. (Sulvolo degli Uccelli, 3 r.)
The soul can never be infected by the corruption of
the body, but acts in the body like the wind which causes
the sound of the organ, wherein if one of the pipes is
spoiled, the wind cannot produce a good result in that
pipe. (Tr. Tav. 71 a.)
Whoever would see in what state the soul dwells
within the body> let him mark how this body uses its
daily habitation, for if this be confused and without
order, then will the body be kept in disorder and con-
fusion by the soul. (C. A. 76 /-. a.)
Music has two ills, the one mortal, the other wasting ;
the mortal is ever allied with the instant which follows
that of the music's utterance, the wasting ill lies in its
repetition, making it seem contemptible and mean.
(C. A. 382 v. a.)
The imitation of the antique is more to be praised
than that of the modern. (C. A. 147 r. a.)
In life beauty perishes, not in art. ($. K. M. m. 72 r.)
The painter contends with and rivals nature.
(S. K. M. Hi. 44 v.)
The senses are of the earth, the reason stands apart
from them in contemplation. (Tr. Tav. 60 a.)
Where there is most power of feeling, there of martyrs
is the greatest martyr. (Tr. Tav. 35 *.)
OF THE OPPORTUNITY OF LIFE 49
Tears come from the heart not from the brain.
(Windsor MSS. R 815.)
Why does the eye see a thing more clearly in dreams
than the imagination when awake ?
(B. M. 263, Ar. 278 v.)
What is it that is much desired by men, but which
they know not while possessing ? It is sleep.
(/ 56 [8] r.)
The thoughts turn towards hope. (C. A. 68 v. b.)
Pray hold me not in scorn ! I am not poor ! Poor
rather is the man who desires many things. Where shall
I take my place ? Where in a little time from hence-
forth you shall know. Do you answer for yourself!
From henceforth in a little time. . .
(C. A. 71 r, a.)
Vows begin when hope dies. (H 48 v.)
If liberty is dear to you may you never discover that
my face is love's prison. (S. K. M. /. 10 v.)
The lover is drawn by the thing loved, as the sense
is by that which it perceives, and it unites with
it, and they become one and the same thing. The
work is the first thing born of the union ; if the thing
that is loved be base, the lover becomes base. When the
thing taken into union is in harmony with that which
receives it, there follow rejoicing and pleasure and satis-
faction. When the lover is united to that which is loved
it finds rest there : when the burden is laid down there
it finds rest. (Tr. Tav. 9 a.)
D
So OF THE SPIRIT'S LONGING TO RETURN
Behold now the hope and desire to go back to our
own country, and to return to our former state, how
like it is to the moth with the light ! And the man who
with perpetual longing ever looks forward with joy to
each new spring and each new summer, and to the new
months and the new years, dee'ming that the things he
longs for are too slow in coming, does not perceive that
he is longing for his own destruction. But this longing
is the quintessence and spirit of the eJements, which,
finding itself imprisoned within the life of the human
body, 1 desires continually to return to its source. And I
would have you to know that this very same longing is
that quintessence inherent in nature, and that man is a
type of the world. (B. M. 263, Ar. 156 /.)
In youth acquire that which may requite you for the
deprivations of old age ; and if you are mindful that old
age has wisdom for its food, you will so exert yourself in
youth, that your old age will not lack sustenance.
(C. A. 112 r. a.}
We have no lack of system or device to measure and
to parcel out these poor days of ours ; wherein it should
be our pleasure that they be not squandered or suffered
to pass away in vain, and without meed of honour,
leaving no record of themselves in the minds of men ;
to the end that this our poor course may not be sped in
vain. " (c. A. 12 v. a.)
O thou that sleepest, what is sleep? Sleep is an
image of death. Oh, why not let your work be such that
*dcllo vmano chorpo.*
PLATE
.V^ . * M ,
>/>< *< ; * ,
?*v <.**+*
"*> *W*1 f 1 ! !** *
l*j *"* 4 ;
<A*rf<v (* -*J
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(Whiff -f
^1 -tvpf/' 1 ft! At&yf v*fnui f*- * ^ <
.,?:*.' 'i. ' A v -t
OM J>W-<
V N
STUDY OF A SKULL IN SECTION
TO SHOW THE BONY CAVITIES OF THE FACE
Face
OF LIFE AND DEATH 51
after death you become an image of immortality ; as in
life you become when sleeping like unto the hapless
dead. (c. A. 76 *. a.)
Every evil leaves a sorrow in the memory except the
supreme evil, death, and this destroys memory itself
together with life. (H 33 v.)
As a well-spent day brings happy sleep, so life well
used brings happy death. (7>. Tav. 28 a.)
While I thought that I was learning how to live, I
have been learning how to die. (c, A. 252 r> a.)
The age as it flies glides secretly and deceives one and
another ; nothing is more fleeting than the years, but he
who sows virtue reaps honour. (c. A. 71 v. a.)
Iron rusts from disuse ; stagnant water loses its purity
and in cold weather becomes frozen ; even so does in-
action sap the vigour of the mind. (c. A. 289 v. e.)
Life well spent is long. (2>. Tat/. 63 a.)
In rivers, the water that you touch is the last of what
has passed and the first of that which comes : so with
time present. (Tr. Tav. 63 a.)
Wrongfully do men lament the flight of time, accusing
it of being too swift, and not perceiving that its period
is yet sufficient ; but good memory wherewith nature
has endowed us causes everything long past to seem
present- (C. A. 76 r. a.)
52 OF TIME THE DESTROYER
Our judgment does not reckon in their exact and
proper order things which have come to pass at different
periods of time ; for many things which happened many
years ago will seem nearly related to the present, and
many things that are recent will seem ancient, extending
back to the far-off period of our youth. And so it is
with the eye, with regard to distant things, which when
illumined by the sun seem near to the eye, while many
things which are near seem far off. (c. A, 29 #. a.)
O Time, thou that consumest all things ! O envious
age, thou destroyest all things and devourest all things
with the hard teeth of the years, little by little, in slow
death ! Helen, when she looked in her mirror and saw
the withered wrinkles which old age had made in her
face, wept, and wondered to herself why ever she had
twice been carried away.
O Time, thou that consumest all things ! O envious
age, whereby all things are consumed !
(C. A. 71 r.a.)
Just as eating contrary to the inclination is injurious
to the health, so study without desire spoils the memory,
and it retains nothing that it takes in*
(MS. 2038, &tt. Nat, 34 r.)
Wood feeds the fire that consumes it.
(MS. 2038, Sib. Nat. 34 v.)
Call not that riches which may be lost ; virtue is our
true wealth, and the true reward of its possessor* It
cannot be lost ; it will not abandon us unless life itself
first leaves us* As for property and material wealth,
OF THE PURSUIT OF KNOWLEDGE 53
these you should ever hold in fear ; full often they leave
their possessor in ignominy mocked at for having lost
possession of them. (MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 34 ?.)
HOW IN ALL TRAVELS ONE MAY LEARN
This benign nature so provides that all over the world
you find something to imitate.
(MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 31 r.)
The supreme misfortune is when theory outstrips
performance. (MS. 2038, Bib. #*/. 33 *.)
The natural desire of good men is knowledge.
(C. A. 119 v. a.)
The knowledge of past time and of the position of the
earth is the adornment and the food of human minds.
(C. A. 373 v. a.)
Nothing can be written as the result of new researches.
(Tr. Tav. 52 a.)
All our knowledge originates in opinions.
(fir. f>* 41 a.)
Shun those studies in which the work that results
dies with the worker. ($. jr. Af. /. 55 r.)
The idea or the faculty of imagination is both rudder
and bridle to the senses, inasmuch as the thing imagined
moves the sense.
Pre-imagining is the imagining of things that are
to be.
Post-imagining is the imagining of things that are
past. (Windsor MSS. Del? Anat. Fogli B 2 r.)
54 OF THE INTELLECTUAL LIFE
Whoever in discussion adduces authority uses not
intellect but rather memory, (C. A. 76 r. a.)
Good literature proceeds from men of natural probity,
and since one ought rather to praise the inception than
the result, you should give greater praise to a man of
probity unskilled in letters than to one skilled in letters
but devoid of probity. (C. A. 76 r. a.)
Poor is the pupil who does not surpass his master.
(S. K. M. Hi. 66 v.)
Science is the captain, practice the soldiers.
(/i 3 o[82]r.)
To devise is the work of the master, to execute the
act of the servant, (C. A. 109 v* a.)
Every part is disposed to unite with the whole, that it
may thereby escape from its own incompleteness.
(C. A. 59 r. l)
There is no certainty where one can neither apply
any of the mathematical sciences nor any of those which
are based upon the mathematical sciences.
(G 96 v.)
You who speculate on the nature of things, I praise
you not for knowing the processes which nature
ordinarily effects of herself, but rejoice if so be that you
know the issue of such things as your mind conceives.
(G 47 r.)
There is no result in nature without a cause ; under-
stand the cause and you will have no need of the
experiment. (C. A. 147 *. a.)
OF THE LAWS OF NATURE 55
The lying interpreters of nature assert that mercury-
is a common factor in all the metals ; they forget that
nature varies its factors according to the variety of the
things which it desires to produce in the world.
(C. A. 76 v, a.)
Nature never breaks her own law. (E 43 v.)
Nature is constrained by the order of her own law
which lives and works within her, (C 23 v.)
Necessity is the mistress and guide of nature. Ne-
cessity is the theme and artificer of nature, the bridle
and the eternal law. (S. K. M. in. 43 v.)
Weight, pressure, and accidental movement together
with resistance are the four accidental powers in which
all the visible works of mortals have their existence and
their end. (S. K. M. U. 116 v.)
Every weight tends to fall towards the centre by the
shortest way. (C 28 v.)
All the elements when removed from their natural
place desire to return there, especially fire, water, and
earth. (C 26 v.)
O mathematicians, throw light on this error. The
spirit has not voice, for where there is voice there is
a body, and where there is a body there is occupation of
space which prevents the eye from seeing things situated
beyond this space ; consequently this body of itself fills
the whole surrounding air, that is by its images.
(C. A. 190 v. 6.)
S6 OF IMAGES AND MOVEMENTS
HOW THE MOVEMENTS OF THE EYE, THE RAY OF THE SUN
AND THE MIND ARE THE SWIFTEST THAT CAN BE
The sun so soon as ever it appears in the east instantly
proceeds with its rays to the west ; and these are made
up of three incorporeal forces, namely radiance, heat, and
the image of the shape which produces these.
The eye so soon as ever it is opened beholds all the
stars of our hemisphere.
The mind passes in an instant from the east to the
west ; and all the great incorporeal things resemble these
very closely in their speed. (C. A. 204 v. a.)
A PROOF OF HOW OBJECTS COME TO THE EYE
After looking at the sun or other luminous object and
then closing the eyes you will continue to see it as
before within the eye for a considerable space of time,
This is a token that the images enter within the eye.
(C. A. 204 r. a.)
Just as a stone flung into the water becomes the centre
and cause of various circles, and a sound produced in
the air spreads itself out in circles, so each body situated
La the luminous air is spread out circle-wise and fills
the surrounding parts with infinite images of itself and
is present all in the whole and all in every part,
<-*9*->
Experience is never at fault ; it is only your judgment
that is in error in promising itself such results from ex-
perience as are not caused by our experiments. For
having given a beginning, what follows from it must
necessarily be a natural development of such a beginning,
OF EXPERIENCE 57
unless it has been subject to a contrary influence, while,
if it is affected by any contrary influence, the result which
ought to follow from the aforesaid beginning will be
found to partake of this contrary influence in a greater
or less degree in proportion as the said influence is
more or less powerful than the aforesaid beginning.
(C. A. 154 r. a.)
Experience is not at fault ; it is' only our judgment
that is in error in promising itself from experience things
which are not within her power.
Wrongly do men cry out against experience and with
bitter reproaches accuse her of deceitfulness. Let ex-
perience alone, and rather turn your complaints against
your own ignorance, which causes you to be so carried
away by your vain and insensate desires as to expect from
experience things which are not within her power !
Wrongly do men cry out against innocent experience,
accusing her often of deceit and lying demonstrations !
(C. A. 154 v. a.)
Nature is full of infinite causes which were never set
forth in experience. (7 18 r.)
I reveal to men the origin of the first, or perhaps
the second, cause of their existence,
(Windsor MSS. R 841.)
Falsehood is so utterly vile that though it should
praise the great works of God it offends against His
divinity ; truth is of such excellence that if it praise the
meanest things they become ennobled.
Without doubt truth stands to falsehood in the relation
58 OF TRUTH AND FALSEHOOD
of light to darkness, and truth is in itself of such ex-
cellence that even when it treats of humble and lowly
matters it yet immeasurably outweighs the sophistries
and falsehoods which are spread out over great and
high-sounding discourses; for though we have set up
falsehood as a fifth element in our mental state it yet
remains that the truth of things is the chief food of
all finer intellects though not indeed of wandering
wits.
But you who live in dreams the specious reasonings,
the feints which falla players might use, if only they
treat of things vast and uncertain, please you more
than do the things which are sure and natural and of
no such high pretension. (SulVolo degli Vccelli, 12 r.)
The line that is straightest offers most resistance.
(Tr. Tav. 24 a.)
He who has most possessions should have the greatest
fear of loss. (C. A. 109 v. a.)
Supreme happiness will be the greatest cause of misery,
and the perfection of wisdom the occasion of folly.
(C A. 39 *. c.)
As courage endangers life even so fear preserves it.
Threats only serve as weapons to the threatened.
Who walks rightly seldom falls.
You do ill if you praise, but worse if you censure
what you do not rightly understand. (c. A. 76 v. a.)
Who goes not ever in fear sustains many injuries and
often repents. (C. A. 170 r. 6.)
APHORISMS 59
To speak well of a worthless man is like speaking ill
of a good man. (s. K. M. Hi. 41 *,)
Folly is the buckler of shame as importunity is of
poverty. (Tr. Tav. 52 a.)
Fear springs to life more quickly than anything else.
(L 90 v.)
As evil that harms me not even so is good which does
not profit me.
Who injures others regards not himself. (M 4 r.)
Truth alone was the daughter of time. (M 58 v.)
He who does not value life deserves it not. (/ 15 r.)
Ask counsel of him who governs himself well.
Justice requires power, intelligence, and will. It
resembles the queen bee.
He who neglects to punish evil sanctions the doing
thereof.
He who takes the snake by the tail is afterwards
bitten by it.
He who digs the pit upon him will it fall in ruin.
(#ii8[>5r.]*.)
He who thinks little makes many mistakes.
No counsel is more trustworthy than that which is
given upon- ships that are in peril.
Let him expect disaster who shapes his course on a
young man's counsel. (H 119 [24 #.] r.)
60 APHORISMS
He who expects from experience what she does not
possess takes leave of reason. (C. A. 299 r. b.}
Happy is that estate which is seen by the eye of its
lord.
This by experience is proved, that he who never puts
his trust in any man will never be deceived.
(C. A. 344 r. b.)
The memory of benefits is frail as against ingratitude.
Reprove a friend in secret but praise him before others.
He who walks in fear of dangers will not perish in
consequence thereof.
Lie not about the past. (H 16 v.)
Bars of gold are refined in the fire. (// 98 [44 bis '.] r.)
It is by testing that we discern fine gold.
As is the mould so will be the cast.
(H 100 [43 r.} v.)
Every wrong shall be set right. (#99 (.44 *] r *)
Constancy. Not he who begins, but he who perseveres.
(H 101 [42 v.] r,)
He who strips the wall bare on him will it fall.
He who cuts down the tree on him it takes vengeance
in its fall. (#i 18(25 v.]r.)
Obstacles cannot bend me.
Every obstacle yields to effort.
He who fixes his course by a star changes not.
(Windsor MSS. R 682.)
ALLEGORIES 61
A SIMILE OF PATIENCE
Patience serves as a protection against wrongs as clothes
do against cold. For if you put on more clothes as the
cold increases it will have no power to hurt you. So in
like manner you must grow in patience when you meet
with great wrongs, and they will then be powerless to
vex your mind. (c. A. 117 v. b.)
When fortune comes seize her with a firm hand, in
front, I counsel you, for behind she is bald.
(C. A. 76 v. a.)
A simile. A vessel of unbaked clay when broken may
be remoulded, but not *one that has passed through the
fire. (Tr. Tav. 68 a.)
Fame should bt, represented in the shape of a bird,
but with the whole figure covered with tongues instead
of feathers. (& 3 *)
Where fortune enters, there envy lays siege, and
strives against it, and when this departs it leaves anguish
and remorse behind. (C. A. 76 v. a.}
Envy wounds by base calumnies, that is by slander, at
which virtue is filled with dismay. (# 60 [12] *'.)
Good Report soars and rises up to heaven, for virtuous
things find favour with God. Evil Report should be
shown inverted, for all "her works are contrary to God
and tend towards hell. (// 61 [i 3] r.)
This envy is represented making a contemptuous
62 ALLEGORIES
motion towards heaven, because if she could she would
use her strength against God. She is made with a mask
upon her face of fair appearance. She is made wounded
in the sight by palm and olive. She is made wounded in
the ear by laurel and myrtle to signify that victory and
truth offend her. She is made with many lightnings
issuing forth from her to denote her evil speaking. She
is made lean and wizened because she is ever wasting in
perpetual desire. She is made with a fiery serpent
gnawing at her heart. She is given a quiver with
tongues for arrows, because with the tongue she often
offends, and she is made with a leopard's skin, since the
leopard from envy slays the lion by guile. She is given
a vase in her hand full of flowers, and beneath these
filled with scorpions and toads and other venomous
things. She is made riding upon death, because envy
never dying has lordship over him ; and death is made
with a bridle in his mouth and laden with various
weapons, since these are all the instruments of death.
(Oxford Drawings, Part #. No. 6.)
In the moment when virtue is born she gives birth to
envy against herself, and a body shall sooner exist
without a shadow than virtue without envy.
(Oxford Drawings^ Part it. No. 6.)
Pleasure and Pain are represented as twins, as though
they were joined together, for there is never the one
without the other ; and they turn their backs because
they are contrary to each other.
If you shall choose pleasure know that he has behind him
one who will deal out to you tribulation and repentance.
ALLEGORIES 63
This is pleasure together with pain, and they are
represented as twins because the one is never separated
from the other. They are made with their backs turned
to each other because they are contrary the one to the
other. They are made growing out of the same trunk
because they have one and the same foundation, for the
foundation of pleasure is labour with pain, and the
foundations of pain are vain 1 and lascivious pleasures.
And accordingly it is represented here with a reed in the
right hand which is useless and without strength [?] and
the wounds made with it are poisoned. In Tuscany
reeds are put to support beds to signify that here occur
vain dreams, and here is consumed a great part * of
life : here is squandered much useful time, namely that
of the morning when the mind is composed and re-
freshed, and the body therefore is fitted to resume new
labours. There also are taken many vain pleasures both
with the mind imagining impossible things, and with
the body taking those pleasures which are often the
cause of the failing of life ; so that for this the reed is
held as representing such foundations.
(Oxford Drawings^ Part it. No. 7.)
Intellectual passion drives out sensuality.
(C. A. 358 v. a.)
Whoso curbs not lustful desires puts himself on a
level with the beasts.
You can have neither a greater nor a less dominion
than that over yourself,
1 MS. c vanj," not
64 THE SCOURGE OF FOLLY
It is easier to resist at the beginning than at the end.
(H M9[24*.]r.)
If you kept your body in accordance with virtue
your desires would not be of this world.
(* 3 *)
Nothing is so much to be feared as a bad reputation.
This bad reputation is caused by vices.
(// 4 or.)
You grow in reputation like bread in the hands of
children. (JB 3 v.)
Methinks that coarse men of bad habits and little
power of reason do not deserve so fine an instrument or
so great a variety of mechanism as those endowed with
ideas and with great reasoning power, but merely a sack
wherein their food is received, and from whence it passes
away. For in truth one can only reckon -them as a
passage for food ; since it does not seem to me that they
have anything in common with the human race except
speech and shape, and in all else they are far below
the level of the beasts.
(Windsor MSS. Del? Anat. Fogti 3 21 v.)
And this man excels in folly who continually stints
himself in order that he may not want, and his life slips
away while he is still looking forward to enjoying the
wealth which by extreme toil he has acquired. '
($. K. M.iu. 17 v.)
O speculators about perpetual motion, how many vain
chimeras have you created in the like quest? Go and
take your place with the seekers after gold.
(8. K. M. . 92 v.)
AVARICE THE HEALTH OF THE BODY* 65
O misery of man ! To how many things do you
make yourself a slave for money ?
(Windsor MSS. R 688.)
To the ambitious, whom neither the boon of life nor
the beauty of the world suffice to content, it comes as
penance that life with them is squandered, and that they
possess neither the benefits nor the beauty of the world.
(C. A. 91 v. a.)
Strive to preserve your health ; and in this you will the
better succeed in proportion as you keep clear of the
physicians, for their drugs are a kind of alchemy con-
cerning which there are no fewer books than there
are medicines. (Windsor MSS. Del? An&t. Fogli A 2 r.)
Every man desires to acquire wealth in order that he
may give it to the doctors, the destroyers of life ; there-
fore they ought to be rich. (F 96 v.)
Wine is good, but water is preferable at table.
(/ 1 [ 74 ] *.)
Here nature seems in many or for many animals to
have been rather a cruel step-mother than a mother, and
for some not a step-mother but a compassionate mother.
(S. 1C. M. HL 20 v.)
We support life by the death of others.
In dead matter there remains insensible life, which on
becoming re-united to the stomachs of the living re-
sumes the life of the senses and of the intellect.
(#89 [41]*.)
Man and the animals are merely a passage and channel
66 OF GOVERNANCE
for food, a tomb for other animals, a haven for the dead,
giving life by the death of others, a coffer full of
corruption. (C. A. 76 v. a.)
Man has great power of speech, but the greater part
thereof is empty and deceitful. The animals have little,
but that little is useful and true l ; and better is a small
and certain thing than a great falsehood. (F 96 v.)
Lust is the cause of generation.
Appetite is the stay of life.
Fear or timidity is the prolongation of life.
Deceit is the preservation of the instrument.
(ff 3 ar.)
Let the street be as wide as the universal height of the
houses. ( 36 r.)
When besieged by ambitious tyrants, I find a means
of offence and defence in order to preserve the chief gift
of nature, which is liberty ; and first I would speak of
the position of the walls, and then of how the various
peoples can maintain their good and just lords.
(MS. 2037, Bib. Nat. 10 r.)
Small rooms or dwellings set the mind in the right
path, large ones cause it to go astray,
(MS. 2038, Bib. Nat, 16 r.)
If you cause your ship to stop, and place the head of
a long tube in the water, and place the other extremity
to your ear you will hear ships at a great distance
from you.
M. vero ' (the reading adopted by Dr. Richter). MS. has < verso.'
OF CERTAIN INVENTIONS 67
You can also do the same by placing the head of the
tube upon the ground, and you will then hear any one
passing at a distance from you. (B 6 r.)
A WAY OF SAVING ONESELF IN A TEMPEST
OR SHIPWRECK AT SEA
It is necessary to have a coat made of leather with
a double hem over the breast of the width of a finger,
and double also from the girdle to the knee, and let the
leather of which it is made be quite air-tight. And
when you are obliged to jump into the sea, blow out the
lappets of the coat through the hems of the breast, and
then jump into the sea. And let yourself be carried by
the waves, if there is no shore near at hand and you do
not know the sea. And always keep in your mouth the
end of the tube through which the air passes into the
garment ; and if once or twice it should become necessary
for you to take a breath when the foam prevents you,
draw it through the mouth of the tube from the air
within the coat. (j? 81 v.)
Words which fail to satisfy the ear of the listener always
either fatigue or weary him ; and you may often see a
sign of this when such listeners are frequently yawning.
Consequently when addressing men whose good opinion
you desire, either cut short your speech when you see
these evident signs of impatience, or else change the
subject ; for if you take any other course, then in place
of the approbation you desire you will win dislike and
ill-will.
And if you would see in what a man takes pleasure
68 OF NECROMANCY
without hearing him speak, talk to him and change the
subject of your discourse several times, and when it
comes about that you see him stand fixedly without
either yawning or knitting his brows or making any
other movement, then be sure that the subject of which
you are speaking is the one in which he takes pleasure.
(G 49 r.)
But of all human discourses that must be considered
as most foolish which affirms a belief in necromancy,
which is the sister of alchemy, the producer of simple
and natural things, but is so much the more worthy of
blame than alchemy, because it never gives birth to any-
thing whatever except to things like itself, that is to say
lies ; and this is not the case with alchemy, which works
by the simple products of nature, but whose function
cannot be exercised by nature herself, because there are
in her no organic instruments with which she might be
able to do the work which man performs with his hands,
by the use of which he has made glass, etc. But this
necromancy, an ensign, or flying banner, blown by the
wind, is the guide of the foolish multitude, which is
a continual witness by its clamour to the limitless effects
of such an art. And they have filled whole books in
affirming that enchantments and spirits can work and
speak 'without tongues, and can speak without any
organic instrument, without which speech is impossible,
and can carry the heaviest weights, and bring tempests
and rain, and that men can be changed into cats and
wolves and other beasts, although those first become
beasts who affirm such things.
OF NECROMANCY 69
And undoubtedly if this necromancy did exist, as is
believed by shallow minds, there is nothing on the earth
that would have so much power either to harm or benefit
man : if it were true, that is, that by such an art one had
the power to disturb the tranquil clearness of the air, and
transform it into the hue of night, to create coruscations
and tempests with dreadful thunder-claps and lightning-
flashes rushing through the darkness, and with impetuous
storms to overthrow high buildings and uproot forests, and
with these to encounter armies and break and overthrow
them, and more important even than this to make the
devastating tempests, and thereby rob the husbandmen
of the reward of their labours. For what method of
warfare can there be which can inflict such damage upon
the enemy as the exercise of the power to deprive him of
his crops ? What naval combat could there be which
should compare with that which he would wage who has
command of the winds and can create ruinous tempests that
would submerge every fleet whatsoever ? In truth, who-
ever has control of such irresistible forces will be lord
over all nations, and no human skill will be able to resist
his destructive power. The buried treasures, the jewels
that lie in the body of the earth will all become manifest
to him ; no lock, no fortress, however impregnable, will
avail to save any one against the will of such a necro-
mancer. He will cause himself to be carried through the
air from- East to West, and through all the uttermost
parts of the universe. But why do I thus go on adding
instance to instance? What is there which could not
be brought to pass by a mechanician such as this?
Almost nothing, except the escaping from death.
70 THE DEFINITION OF A SPIRIT
We have therefore ascertained in part the mischief
and the usefulness that belong to such an art if it is
real ; and if it is real why has it not remained among
men who desire so much, not having regard to any
deity, merely because there are an infinite number of
persons who in order to gratify one of their appetites
would destroy God and the whole universe ?
If then it has not remained among men, although so
necessary to them, it never existed, and never can exist 3
as follows from the definition of a spirit, which is
invisible and incorporeal, for within the elements there
are no incorporeal things, because where there is not body
there is a vacuum, and the vacuum does not exist
within the elements, because it would be instantly filled
up by the element.
(Windsor MSS. Del? Anat. Fogli B 31 v.)
OF SPIRITS
We have just now stated on the other side of this
page, that the definition of a spirit is a power united to
a body, because of itself it can neither offer resistance
nor take any kind of local movement ; and if you say
that it does in itself offer resistance, this cannot be so
within the elements, because if the spirit is a quantity
without a body, this quantity is what is called a vacuum,
and the vacuum does not exist in nature, and granting
that one were formed, it would be instantly filled up by
the falling in of that element within which such a vacuum
had been created. So by the definition of weight, which
says that gravity is a fortuitous power created by one
element being drawn or impelled towards another, it
OF WHETHER A SPIRIT HAS BODY 71
follows that any element, though without weight when
in the same element, acquires weight in the element
above it, which is lighter than itself; so one sees that
one part of the water has neither gravity nor levity in
the rest of the water, but if you draw it up into the air
then it will acquire weight, and if you draw the air
under the water then the water on finding itself above
this air acquires weight, which weight it cannot support
of itself, and consequently its descent is inevitable, and
therefore it falls into the water, at the very spot which
had been left a vacuum by this water. The same thing
would happen to a spirit if it were among the elements, for
it would continually create a vacuum in whatever element
it chanced to find itself ; and for this reason it would be
necessarily in perpetual flight towards the sky until it
had passed out of these elements.
WHETHER THE SPIRIT HAS A BODY AMONG THE
ELEMENTS
We have proved how the spirit cannot of itself exist
among the elements without a body, nor yet move of
itself by voluntary movement except to rise upwards.
We now proceed to say that such a spirit in taking
a body of air must of necessity spread itself through
this air ; for if it remained united, it would be separated
from it and would fall, and so create a vacuum, as is said
above ; and therefore it is necessary, if it is to be able to
remain suspended in the air, that it should spread itself
over a certain quantity of air ; and if it becomes mingled
with the air two difficulties ensue, namely, that it rarefies
72 OF WHETHER A SPIRIT CAN MOVE
that quantity of air within which it is mingled, and con-
sequently this air, becoming rarefied, flies upwards of its
own accord, and will not remain among the air that is
heavier than itself ; and moreover, that as this aethereal
essence is spread out, the parts of it become separated,
and its nature becomes modified, and it thereby loses
something of its former power. To these there is also
added a third difficulty, and that is that this body of air
assumed by the spirit is exposed to the penetrating force
of the winds, which are incessantly severing and tearing
in pieces the connected portions of the air, spinning
them round and whirling them amid the other air ; and
therefore the spirit which was spread through this air
would be dismembered or rent in pieces and broken,
together with the rending in pieces of the air within
which it was spread.
WHETHER THE SPIRIT HAVING ASSUMED A BODY OF
AIR CAN MOVE OF ITSELF OR NO
It is impossible that the spirit diffused within a quantity
of air can have power to move this air ; and this is
shown by the former section in which it is stated that
the spirit rarefies that quantity of air within which it has
entered. This air consequently will rise up above the
other air, and this will be a movement made by the air
through its own levity, and not through the voluntary
movement of the spirit ; and if this air meets the wind,
by the third part of this section, this air wilj be moved
by the wind tthd not by the spirit which is diffused
within.it.
OF WHETHER A SPIRIT HAS VOICE 73
WHETHER THE SPIRIT CAN SPEAK OR NO
Wishing to prove whether or no the spirit can speak,
it is necessary first to define what voice is, and how it is
produced, and we may define it as follows : the voice is
movement of air in friction against a compact body, or of
the compact body in friction against the air, which is the
same thing ; and this friction of compact with tenuous
substance condenses the latter, and so makes it capable of
resisting; moreover, the tenuous substance, when in
swift motion, and a similar substance moving slowly,
condense each other at their contact, and make a noise
or tremendous uproar ; and the sound or murmur caused
by one tenuous substance moving through another at a
moderate pace [is] like a great flame which creates noises
within the air ; and the loudest uproar made by one tenuous
substance with another is when the one swiftly moving
penetrates the other which is unmoveable, as for instance
the flame of fire issuing forth from the cannon .and
striking against the air, and also the flame issuing from
the cloud, which strikes the air and so produces thunder-
bolts.
We may say therefore, that the spirit cannot produce
a voice without movement of air, and there is na air
within it, and it cannot expel air from itself if it has it not,
and if it wishes to move that within which it is diffused,
it becomes necessary that the spirit should multiply itself,
and this it cannot do unless it has quantity. And by the
fourth part it is said that no tenuous body can move
unless it has a fixed spot from whence to take its motion,
and especially in the case of an element moving in its
74 OF THE SENSES
own element, which does not move of itself, except
by uniform evaporation at the centre of the thing
evaporated, as happens with a sponge squeezed in the
hand, which is held under water, since the water flows
away from it in every direction with equal movement
through the openings that come between the fingers of
the hand within which it is squeezed.
Of whether the spirit has articulate voice, and whether
the spirit can be heard, and what hearing is, and seeing ;
and how the wave of the voice passes through the air,
and how the images of objects pass to the eye.
(Wtodar MSS. Del? Anat. Fogli B 31 r. and 30 v.)
HOW THE FIVE SENSES ARE THE MINISTERS OF
THE SOUL
The soul apparently resides in the seat of the judg-
ment, and the judgment apparently resides in the place
where all the senses meet, which is called the common
sense ; and it is not all of it in the whole body as many
have believed, but it is all in this part ; for if it were
all in the whole, and all in every part, it would not have
been necessary for the instruments of the senses to come
together in concourse to one particular spot ; rather
would it have sufficed for the eye to register its function
of perception on its surface, and not to transmit the
images of the things seen to the sense by way of the
optic nerves; because the soul for the reason already
given would comprehend them upon the surface of
the eye.
Similarly, with the sense of hearing, it would be
> .. .
, r w. .,.. , -wf -aw i ,
" ;'.: , .#*-, , : . w ;:".,
-E:": ; ::- : " :-:v : :V^. - 14 /'
t jl< '" ' .1 ' v '*^ t
STUDIES OF THE DELTOID MUSCLE OF THE SHOULDER
IN VARIOUS ASPECTS
OF THE SENSES 75
sufficient merely for the voice to resound in the arched
recesses of the rock-like bone, which is within the ear,
without there being another passage from this bone to
the common sense, whereby the said mouth might address
itself to the common" judgment.
The sense of smell also is seen to be forced of neces-
sity to have recourse to this same judgment.
The touch passes through the perforated tendons and
is transmitted to this sense ; these tendons proceed to
spread out with infinite ramifications into the skin which
encloses the body's members and the bowels. The per-
forating tendons carry impulse and sensation to the
subject limbs ; these tendons passing between the
muscles and the sinews dictate to these their movement,
and these obey, and in the act of obeying they contract,
for the reason that the swelling reduces their length
and draws with it the nerves^ which are interwoven amid
the particles of the limbs, and being spread throughout
the extremities of the fingers, they transmit to the sense
the impression of what they touch.
The nerves with their muscles serve the tendons, even
as soldiers serve their leaders, and the tendons serve
the common sense as the leaders their captain, and this
common sense serves the soul as the captain serves his
lord.
So therefore, the articulation of the bones obeys the
nerve, and the nerve the muscle, and the muscle the
tendon, and the tendon the common sense, and the
common sense is the seat of the soul, and the memory is
its monitor, and its faculty of receiving impressions
serves as its standard of reference.
76 OF THE ORIGIN OF THE SOUL
How the sense waits on the soul, and not the soul on
the sense, and how where the sense that should minister
to the soul is lacking, the soul in such a life lacks con-
ception of the function of this sense as is seen in the
case of a mute or one born blind.
(Windsor MSB. belt Anat. Togli B z r.)
Although human subtlety makes a variety of inven-
tions answering by different means to the same end, it
will never devise an invention more beautiful, more
simple, or more direct than does nature, because in her
inventions nothing is lacking, and nothing is superfluous ;
and she needs no countervailing weights when she
creates limbs fitted for movement in the bodies of the
animals, but puts within them the soul of the body
which forms them, that is the soul of the mother which
first constructs within the womb the shape of the man,
and in due time awakens the soul that is to be its inhabi-
tant. For this at first remained asleep, in the guardian-
ship of the soul of the mother, who nourishes and gives
it life through the umbilical vein, with all its spiritual
members, and so it will continue for such time as the
said umbilical cord is joined to the placenta -and the
cotylidons by which the child is attached to the mother.
And this is the reason why any wish or intense desire pr
fright experienced by the mother, or any other mental
suffering, is felt more powerfully by the child than by the
mother, for there are many cases in which the child loses
its life from it.
This discourse does not properly Wong here^ but is
necessary in treating of the structure of animated bodies ;
OF THE RENEWAL OF THE BODY 77
and the rest of the definition of the soul I'leave to the
wisdom of the friars, those fathers of the people who by
inspiration know all mysteries. I speak not against the
sacred books, for they are supreme truth.
(Windsor MBS. fitudes Anatomiquts S [Roawyre] 8 /.)
HOW THE BODY OF THE ANIMAL CONTINUALLY DIES
AND IS RENEWED
The body of anything whatsoever that receives nourish-
ment continually dies and is continually renewed. For
the nourishment cannot enter except in those places
where the preceding nourishment is exhausted, and if
it is exhausted it no longer has life. Unless therefore
you supply nourishment equivalent to that which has
departed, the life fails in its vigour ; and if you deprive
it of this nourishment, the life is completely destroyed.
But if you supply it with just so much as is destroyed
day by day, then it renews its life just as much as it is
consumed ; like the light of this candle formed by the
nourishment given to it by the fat of this candle, which
light is also continually renewed by swiftest succour from
beneath, in proportion as the upper part is consumed and
dies, and in dying becomes changed from radiant light to
murky smoke. And this death extends for so long as
the smoke continues ; and the period of duration of the
smoke is the same as that of what feeds it, and in an
instant the whole light dies and is entirely regenerated
by the movement of that which nourishes it ; and its life
receives from it also its ebb and flow, as the flicker of its
point serves to show us. The same process also conies
78 OF THE RENEWAL OF THE BODY
to pass in the bodies of the animals by means of the
beating of the heart, whereby there is produced a wave
of blood in all the veins, and these are continually either
enlarging or contracting, because the expansion occurs
when they receive the excessive quantity of blood, and
the contraction is due to the departure of the excess of
blood they have received ; and this the beating of the
pulse teaches us, when we touch the aforesaid veins with
the fingers in any part whatsoever of the living body.
But to return to our purpose, I say that the flesh of
the animals is made anew by the blood which is continu-
ally produced by that which nourishes them, and that
this flesh is destroyed and returns by the mesaraic
arteries and passes into the, intestines, where it putrifies
in a foul and fetid death, as they show us in their
deposits and steam like the smoke and fire which were
given as a comparison.
(Windsor MSS. Dell' Anat. Fogli B 28 r.)
And this old man, a few hours before his death, told
me that he had lived a hundred years, and that he did
not feel any bodily ailment other than weakness, and thus
while sitting upon a bed in the hospital of Santa Maria
Nuova at Florence, without any movement or sign of
anything amiss, he passed away from this life.
And I made an autopsy in order to ascertain the cause
of so peaceful a death, and found that it proceeded from
weakness through failure of blood and of the artery that
feeds the heart and the other lower members, which I
found to be very parched and shrunk and withered ; and
the result of this autopsy I wrote down very carefully
STUDIES IN THE ANATOMY OF THE NECK AND OF THE
BONES OF THE FOOT
Face p. 78
OF SENILE DECAY 79
and with great ease, for the body was devoid of either fat
or moisture, and these form the chief hindrance to the
knowledge of its parts.
The other autopsy was on a child of two years, and
here I found everything the contrary to what it was in
the case of the old man.
The old who enjoy good health die through lack of
sustenance. And this is brought about by the passage to
the mesaraic veins becoming continually restricted by
the thickening of the skin of these veins ; and the pro-
cess continues until it affects the capillary veins, which
are the first to close up altogether ; and from this it
comes to pass that the old dread the cold more than
the young, and that those who are very old have their
skin the colour of wood or of dried chestnut, because
this skin is almost completely deprived of sustenance.
And this network of veins acts in man as in oranges,
in which the peel becomes thicker and the pulp diminishes
the more they become old. And if you say that as the
blood becomes thicker it ceases to flow through the
veins, this is not true, for the blood in the veins does-
not thicken because it continually dies and is renewed.
(H'wdior MSS. De/f Anai. Fcgit B 10 r.)
THE NATURE OF THE VEINS
The origin of the sea is the contrary to that of the
blood, for 4 the sea receives within itself all the rivers,
which are entirely caused by the aqueous ,vapours that
have ascended up into the air ; while the sea of the blood
'is the source of all the veins.
8o OF THE TONGUE
OF THE NUMBER OF THE VEINS
The vein is one whole, which is divided into as many
main branches as there are principal places which it has to
nourish, and these branches are subdivided in an infinite
number. (Windsor MBS. Del? Anat. Fogli A 4 r.)
OF THE MUSCLES WHICH MOVE THE TONGUE
No member needs so great a number of muscles as
the tongue, twenty-four of these being already known
apart from the others which I have discovered ; and of
all the members which are moved by voluntary action
this exceeds all the rest in the number of its movements.
And if you shall say that this is rather the function of
the eye, which receives all the infinite varieties of form
and colour of the objects set before it, and of the smell
with its infinite mixture of odours, and of the ear with
its sounds, we may reply that the tongue also perceives
an infinite number of flavours both simple and com-
pounded ; but this is not to our purpose, for our intention
is to treat only of the particular movement of each
member.
Consider carefully how by the movement of the tongue,
with the help of the lips and teeth, the pronunciation of
all the names of things is known to us ; and how, by
means of this instrument, the simple and compound
words of a language arrive at our ears ; and how these,
if there were a name for all the effects of nature, would
approach infinity in number, together with all the count-
less things which are in action and in the power of
nature ; and these would not be expressed in one language
OF LANGUAGE 81
only, but in a great number of languages, and these also
would tend to infinite variety, because they vary con-
tinually from century to century, and in one country and
another, through the intermingling of the peoples, who
by wars or other mischances are continually becoming
mixed with each other ; and these same languages are
liable to pass into oblivion, and they are mortal like all
the rest of created things ; and if we grant that our world
is everlasting we shall then say that these languages have
been, and still must be, of infinite variety, through the in-
finite number of centuries which constitute infinite time.
Nor is this true in the case of any other sense ; for
these are concerned only with such things as nature is
continually producing, and she does not change the
ordinary kinds of the things which she creates in the
same way that from time to time the things are changed
which have been created by man ; and indeed man is
nature's chiefest instrument, because nature is concerned
only with the production of elementary things, but mati
from these elementary things produces an infinite number
of compounds, although he has no power to create any
natural thing except another like himself, that is his
children. And of this the old alchemists will serve as
my witnesses, who have never either by chance or de-
liberate experiment succeeded in creating the smallest
thing which can be created by nature ; and indeed this
generation deserves unmeasured praises for the service-
ableness of the things which they have invented for the
use of men, and would deserve them even more if they
had not been the inventors of noxious things like poisons
and other similar things which destroy the life or the
8. OF ALCHEMY
intellect ; but they are not exempt from blame in that by
much study and experiment they are seeking to create,
not, indeed, the meanest of nature's products, but the
most excellent, namely gold, which is begotten of the sun
inasmuch as it has more resemblance to it than to any-
thing else that is, and no created thing is more enduring
than this gold. It is immune from destruction by fire,
which has power over all the rest of created things,
reducing them to ashes, glass, or smoke. If, however,
insensate avarice should drive you into such error, why
do you not go to the mines where nature produces this
gold, and there become her disciple ? She will completely
cure you of your folly by showing you that nothing
which you employ in your furnace will be numbered
among the things which she employs in order to produce
this gold. For there is there no quicksilver, no sulphur
of any kind, no fire nor other heat than that of nature
giving life to our world ; and she will show you the
veins of the gold spreading through the stone, the
blue lapis lazuli, whose colour is unaffected by the power
of the fire. And consider carefully this ramification of
the gold, and you will see that the extremities of it are
continually expanding in slow movement, transmuting
into gold whatever they come in contact with ; and note
that therein is a living organism which it is not within
your power to produce.
(Windsor MSS. Dell 9 Anat. Fogli B 28 tt)
And thou, man, who by these my labours dost look
upon the marvellous works of nature, if thou judgest it
to be an atrocious act to destroy the same, reflect that
OF THE MYSTERY OF LIFE 83
it is an infinitely atrocious act to take away the life of
man. For thou shouldst be mindful that though what
is thus compounded seem io thee of marvellous subtlety,
it is as nothing compared with the soul that dwells within
this structure ; and in truth, whatever this may be,
it is a divine thing which suffers it thus to dwell within
its handiwork at its good pleasure, and wills not that
thy rage or malice should destroy such a life, since in
truth he who values it not does not deserve it.
For we part from the body with extreme reluctance,
and I indeed believe- that its grief and lamentation are
not without cause.
(Windsor MSS. Del? Anat. Fegli A 2 r.)
I wish to work miracles ; I may have less than other
men who are more tranquil, or than those who aim at
growing rich in a day. I may live for a long time in dire
poverty as happens, and to all eternity will happen, to
the alchemists, the would-be creators of gold and silver,
and to the mechanicians who attempt to make dead
water stir itself into life in perpetual motion, and to
those consummate fools, the necromancer and the
enchanter.
And you who say that it is better to look at an
anatomical demonstration than to see these drawings,
you would be right, if it were possible to observe all the
details shown in these drawings in a single figure, in
which, with all your ability, you will not see nor acquire
a knowledge of more than some few veins, while, in
order to obtain an exact and complete knowledge of
these, I have dissected more than ten human bodies,
8 4 OF ANATOMICAL STUDY
destroying all the various members, and removing even
the very smallest particles of the flesh which surrounded
these veins without causing any effusion of blood other
than the imperceptible bleeding of the capillary veins.
And, as one single body did not suffice for. so long a
time, it was necessary to proceed by stages with so many
bodies as would render my knowledge complete ; and
this I repeated twice over in order to discover the
differences.
But though possessed of an interest in the subject you
may perhaps be deterred by natural repugnance, or, if
this does not restrain you, then perhaps by the fear of
passing the night-hours in the company of these corpses,
quartered and flayed and horrible to behold ; and, if this
does not deter you, then perhaps you may lack the
skill in drawing essential for such representation ; and
even if you possess this skill it may not be combined
with a knowledge of perspective, while, if it is so
combined, you may not be versed in the methods of
geometrical demonstration or the method of estimating
the forces and strength of muscles, or perhaps you may
be found wanting in patience so that you will not be
diligent. Concerning which things, whether or no they
have all been found in me, the hundred and twenty books
which I have composed will give their verdict * yes ' or
' no > ; in these I have not been hindered either by avarice
or negligence but only by want of time. Farewell.
(fpinasor M$$. ttudes Anatomises Recueil f B (Rouveyri) 7 v.)
PLATE 4.
STUDIES OF A SKLLL IN MFDIAN SECTION
Face p. 84
BOOK II
NATURE
PRAISE OF THE SUN
IF you look at the stars without their rays, as may be
done by looking at them through a small hole made with
the extreme point of a fine needle and placed so as
almost to touch the eye, you will perceive these stars
to be so small that nothing appears less ; and in truth
the great distance gives them a natural diminution,
although there are many there which are a great many
times larger than the star which is our earth together
with the water. Think, then, what this star of ours
would seem like at so great a distance, and then consider
how many stars might be set longitudinally and lati-
tudinally amid these stars which are scattered throughout
this dark expanse. I can never do other than blame
those many ancients who said that the sun was no larger
than it appears, among these being Epicurus ; and I
believe that such a theory is borrowed from the idea of
a light set in our atmosphere equidistant from the centre
[of the earth] ; whoever sees it never sees it lessened in
size at any distance, and the reasons of its size and
potency I shall reserve for the Fourth Book.
But I marvel greatly that Socrates should have spoken
StS OF THE SUN
with disparagement of that body, and that he should
have said that it resembled a burning stone, and it is
certain that whoever opposes him in such an error can
scarcely do wrong. I could wish that I had such power
of language as should avail me to censure those who
would fain extol the worship of men above that of the
sun, for I do not perceive in the whole universe a body
greater and more powerful than this, and its light
illumines all the celestial bodies which are distributed
throughout the universe.
All vital principle descends from it, since the heat
there is in living creatures proceeds from this vital
principle, and there is no other heat or light in the
universe, as I shall show in the Fourth Book, and, indeed,
those who have wished to worship men as gods, such as
Jupiter, Saturn, Mars, and the like, have made a very
grave error seeing that even if a man were as large as our
earth he would seem like one of the least of the stars,
which appears but a speck in the universe ; and seeing
also that these men are mortal and subject to decay and
corruption in their tombs.
The Spera, and Marullo, and many others praise the
Sun. (F 5 r. and 4 v.)
All the flowers which see the sun mature their seed,
and not the others, that is those which see only the
reflection of the sun, (G 37 r.)
That the atmosphere attracts to itself like a magnet
all the images of the things which surround it> and not
only their bodily shapes but also their nature, is clearly
OF THE SUN 87
to be seen in the case of the sun, which is a hot and
luminous body. All the atmosphere which is exposed
to its influence is charged in all its parts with light and
heat, and it all receives within itself the shape of that
which is the source of this heat and radiance and does
the same also in each minutest part. The north star is
shown to do the same by the needle of the compass ;
and each of the planets does the like without itself
undergoing any diminution. Among the products of
the earth the same is found to happen with musk and
other scents. (C. A, 138 v. t>.)
EXPLANATION OF WHY THE SUN SEEMS LARGER
IN THE WEST
Certain mathematicians contend that the sun grows
larger when it is setting, because the eye sees it continually
through atmosphere of greater density, alleging that
objects seen through mist and in water seem larger.
To those I reply that this is not the case, for the things
seen through the mist are similar in colour to those
which are at a distance, but as they do not undergo
the same process of diminution, they appear greater
in size.
In the same way nothing seems larger in smooth
water, and this you may prove by tracing upon a board
which is placed under water.
The real reason why the sun grows larger is that
every luminous body appears larger, as it is further away.
88 OF THE MOON
WHAT THE MOON IS
The moon is not luminous in itself, but it is well
fitted to take the characteristics of light after the manner
of the mirror or of water or any other shining body ; and
it grows larger in the East and in the West like the sun
and the other planets, and the reason of this is that every
luminous body grows larger as it becomes more remote.
It may be readily understood that every planet and star
is further away from us when in the West than when it is
overhead, by about three thousand five hundred [miles]
according to the proof given at the side [of the page] ; i
and if you see the sun or moon reflected in water which is
near at hand it will seem to be the same size in the water
as it does in the sky, while if you go away to the distance
of a mile it will seem a hundred times as large. And if
you see it reflected in the sea at the moment of its setting
the image of the sun will seem to you to be more than
ten miles long, because it will cover in this reflection
more than ten miles of sea. And if you were where the
moon is, it would appear to you that the sun was reflected
over as much of the sea as it illumines in its daily course,
and the land would appear amid this v/ater like the dark
spots that are upon the moon, which when looked at from
the earth presents to mankind the same appearance that
our earth would present to men dwelling in the moon.
OF THE NATURE OF THE MOON
When all that we can see of the moon is illuminated
it gives us its maximum of light, and then from the
1 Here the margin of the MS. contains a diagram representing the earth
with the sun shown in two positions.
OF THE MOON 89
reflection of the rays of "the sun which strike upon it and
rebound towards us its ocean throws off less moisture to
us, and the less light it gives the more it is harmful.
(A6r.)
THE SPOTS ON THE MOON
Some have said that vapours are given off from the
moon after the manner of clouds, and are interposed
between the moon and our eyes. If this were the case
these spots would never be fixed either as to position or
shape ; and when the moon was seen from different points,
even although these spots did not alter their position
they would change their shape, as does a thing which is
seen on different sides. (F 84 r.)
OF THE SPOTS ON THE MOON
Others have said that the moon is made up of parts,
some more, some less transparent, as though one part were
after the manner of alabaster, and another like crystal or
glass. It would then follow that when the rays of the
sun struck the less transparent part the light would stay
on the surface, and consequently the denser part would
be illuminated, and the transparent part would reveal
the shadows of its obscure depths. Thus then they
define the nature of the mfton, and this view has found
favour with many philosophers, and especially with
Aristotle ; but nevertheless it is false, since in the
different phases which the moon and the sun frequently
piresent to our eyes we should be seeing these spots vary,
and at one time they would appear dark and at another
light. They would be dark when the sun is in the West
90 OF THE MOON
and the moon in the centre of the sky, because the
transparent hollows would then be in shadow as far as the
tops of their edges, since the sun could not cast its rays
into the mouths of these same hollows ; and they would
appear bright at full moon, when the moon in the East
faces the sun in the West ; for then the sun would
illumine even the lowest depths of these transparent
parts, and, in consequence, as no shadow was created, the
moon would not at such times reveal to us the above-
mentioned spots, and so it would be, sometimes more
sometimes less, according to the change in the position
of the sun to the moon, and of the moon to our eyes, as
I have said above. (F 84 v.)
It has also been said that the spots on the moon are
created in the moon itself, by the fact of it being of
varying thinness or density. If this were so, then in the
eclipses of the moon the solar rays could pierce through
some part where it is thin, as has been stated, but since
we do not see this result the aforesaid theory is false.
* Others say that the surface of the moon is smooth
and polished, and that, like a mirror, it receives within
itself the reflection of the earth. This theory is false,
since the earth, when not covered by the water, presents
different shapes from different points of view ; so when
the moon is in the East it would reflect other spots than
when it is overhead or in the West, whereas the spots
upon the moon, as seen at full moon, never change during
the course which it makes in our hemisphere. A second
reason is that an object reflected in a convex surface fills
only a small part of the mirror, as is proved in perspec-
OF THE MOON 91
tive. The third reason Is that when the moon is full it
only faces half the orb of the illuminated earth, in which
the ocean and the other waters shine brightly, while the
land forms spots amid this brightness; and consequently
the half of our earth would be seen girded round about
by the radiance of the sea, which takes its light from the
sun, and in the moon this reflection would be the least
part of that moon. The fourth reason is that one
radiant body cannot be reflected in another, and con-
sequently as the sea derives its radiance from the sun,
as does also the moon, it could not show the reflected
image of the earth, unless one also saw reflected there
separately the orb of the sun and of each of the stars
which look down upon it. (F 85 r.)
HOW IF THE MOON IS POLISHED AND SPHERICAL THE
IMAGE OF THE SUN UPON IT IS POWERFULLY
LUMINOUS, AND IS ONLY ON A SMALL PART OF
ITS SURFACE
You will see the proof of this by taking a ball of
burnished gold and placing it in the darkness and setting
a light at some distance from it. Although this illumi-
nates about half the ball, the eye only sees it reflected on
a small part of its surface, and all the rest of the surface
reflects the darkness which surrounds it. For this reason
it is only there that the image of the light is apparent,
and all the rest remains invisible because the eye is at a
distance from the ball. The same thing would happen
with the surface of the moon if it were polished, glittering
and solid, as are bodies which have a reflecting surface.
Show how if you were upon the moon or upon a star
92 OF THE MOON
our earth would appear to you to perform the same
function for the sun as now the moon does. And show
how the reflection of the sun in the sea cannot itself
appear a sun as it does in a flat mirror. (F 93 r.)
OF THE CIRCLES OF THE MOON
I find that those circles which at night seem to
surround the moon, varying in circumference and in their
degree of redness, are caused by the different degrees of
thickness of the vapours which are situated at different
altitudes between the moon and our eyes. And the
circle that is larger and less red is in the first part lower
than the said vapours ; the second, being less, is higher
and appears redder, because it is seen through two sets
of vapours ; and so the higher they are the smaller and
the redder will they appear, for between the eye and
them there will be more layers of vapours, and this goes
to prove that where there appears greater redness, there
there is a greater quantity of vapours.
(C. A. 349 * *)
Why the thunder lasts for a longer time than that
which causes it ; and why, immediately on its creation,
the lightning becomes visible to the eye, while the
thunder requires time to travel, after the manner of a
wave, and makes the loudest noise when it meets with
most resistance. (K no [30] v.)
THE ORDER OF THE FIRST BOOK ON WATER
Define first of all what is height and depth, also how
the elements are situated one within the other. Then
OF WATER 93
what is solid weight and liquid weight ; but first of all
what weight and lightness consist of in themselves.
Then describe why water moves, and why its motion
ceases ; then why it becomes slower or more rapid, and
in addition to this how it continually descends when in
contact with air that is lower than itself; and how the
water rises in the air through the heat of the sun and
then falls back in rain. Further why the water springs
from the summits of the mountains, and whether any
spring of water higher than the ocean can pour forth
water higher than the surface of this ocean ; and how all
the water that returns to the ocean is higher than the
sphere of the water : and how the water of the equi-
noctial seas is higher than the northern waters, and is
higher beneath the body of the sun than in any other
part of the circle of the equator ; for when the experi-
ment is made under the heat of a burning brand, the
water boils as the effect of the brand, and the water
around the centre of where it boils descends in a circular
wave. And how the waters of the north are lower than
the other seas, and more so as they become colder, until
they are changed into ice. (B 12 r.)
THE BEGINNING OF THE TREATISE ON WATEB
Man has been called by the ancients a lesser world,
and indeed the term is rightly applied, seeing that if
man is compounded of earth, water, air and fire, this
body of the earth is the same ; and as man has within
himself bones as a stay and framework for the flesh, so
the world has the rocks which are the supports of the
94 OF THE EARTH'S STRUCTURE
earth ; as man has within him a pool of blood wherein
the lungs as he breathes expand and contract, so the
body of the earth has its ocean, which also rises and falls
every six hours with the breathing of the world ; as
from the said pool of blood proceed the veins which
spread out their branches throughout the human body,
in just the same manner the ocean fills the body of the
earth with an infinite number of veins of water. In this
body of the earth there is lacking, however; the sinews,
and these are absent because sinews are created for the
purpose of movement, and as the world is perpetually
stable within itself no movement ever takes place there,
and in the absence of any movement the sinews are
not necessary; but in all other things man and the
world show a great resemblance. (^55 *')
OF THE HEAT THAT IS IN THE WORLD
Where there is life there is heat, and where there is
vital heat there is movement of vapour. This is proved
because one sees that the heat of the element of fire
always draws to itself the damp vapours, the thick mists
and dense clouds which are given off by the seas and
other lakes and rivers and m irshy valleys. And drawing
these little by little up to th' cold region, there thc j first
part halts, because the warm and moist cannot exist with
cold and dryness ; and this first part having halted receives
the other parts, and so all the parts joining together one
to another form thick and dark clouds. And these are
often swept away and carried by the winds from one
region to another, until at last their density gives them
OF THE EARTH'S STRUCTURE 95
such weight that they fall in thick rain ; but if the heat
of the sun is added to the power of the element of fire,
the clouds are drawn up higher, and come to more intense
cold, and there become frozen, and so produce hailstorms,
So the same heat which holds up so great a weight of
water as is seen to fall in rain from the clouds, sucks it
up from below from the roots of the mountains and
draws it up and confines it among the mountain summits,
and there the water finds crevices, and so continuing it
issues forth and creates rivers. (A 55 *.)
OF THE SEA WHICH GIRDLES THE EARTH
I perceive that the surface of the earth was from of
old entirely filled up and covered over in its level plains
by the salt waters, and that the mountains, the bones of
the earth, with their wide bases, penetrated and towered
up amid the air, covered over and clad with much high-
lying soil. Subsequently, the incessant rains have caused
the rivers to increase, and by repeated washing, have
stripped bare part of the lofty summits of these moun-
tains, leaving the site of the earth, so that the rock finds
itself exposed to the air, and the earth has departed from
these places. And the earth from off the slopes and the
lofty summits of the mountains has already descended
to their bases, and has raised the floors of the seas which
encircle these bases, and caused the plain to be uncovered,
and in some parts has driven away the seas from there
over \ great distance. (C. A. 126 t\ 6.)
j6 OF WATER
OF THE FOAM OF WATER
Water which falls from a height into other water im-
prisons within itself a certain quanuty of air, and this
through the force of the blow becomes submerged with
it, and then with swift movement rises up again and
arrives at the surface which it has quitted, clothed with a
fine veil of moisture, spherical in form, and proceeds by
circles away from the spot where it first struck. Or the
water which falls down upon other water runs away from
the spot where it strikes, in various different branches,
bifurcating and mingling and interlacing one with
another ; and some, being hollow, are dashed back upon
the surface of the water ; and so great is the force of
the weight, and of the shock caused by this water, that
through its extreme swiftness the air is unable to escape
into its own element, but on the contrary is submerged
in the manner that I have stated above. (A 59 r.)
OF THE OPINION HELD BY SOME THAT THE WATER OF
SOME SEAS IS HIGHER THAN THE HIGHEST SUMMITS
OF THE MOUNTAINS AND THAT THE WATER WAS
DRIVEN UP TO THESE SUMMITS
Water will not move from one spot to another unless
to seek a lower level, and in the natural course of its
current it will never be able to return to an elevation
equal to that of the spot where it first issued forth from
the mountains and came into the light. That part of
the sea which by an error of imagination you state to
have been so high as to have flowed over the summits of
OF THE WATER OF THE SEA 97
the high mountains for so many centuries, would be con-
sumed and poured out in the water that has issued from
these same mountains. You can well imagine that
during all the time that the Tigris and the Euphrates
have flowed from the summits of the Armenian moun-
tains, 1 one may suppose the whole of the water of the
ocean to have passed a great many times through their
mouths. Or do you not believe that the Nile has dis-
charged more water into the sea than is at present con-
tained in all the watery elerrent? Surely this is the
case ! If then this water had fallen away from this body
of the earth, the whole mechanism would long since have
been without water. So, therefore, one may conclude
that the water passes from the rivers to the sea, and from
the sea to the rivers, ever making the self-same round,
and that all the sea and the rivers have passed through
the mouth of the Nile an infinite number of times.
(A 56 r. and zr.)
WHAT CAUSES THE EDDIES OF WATER
All the movements of the wind resemble those of the
water.
Universally all things desire to maintain themselves in
their natural state. So moving water strives to main-
tain the course pursuant to the power which occasions it,
and if it finds an obstacle in its path, it completes the
span of the course it has o&mmenced by a circular and
revolving movement.
So when water pours out of a narrow channel and
descends with fury into the slow-moving currents of
1 Text is not * de monti eruini * as in M, Ravaisson-Mollien's transcript,
but ' dc mOti ermjnj * (de monti ermini) as given by Dr. Richter.
G
98 OF THE EDDIES OF WATER
mighty seas, since in the greater bulk there is greater
power, and greater power offers resistance to the lesser,
in this case, the water descending upon the sea beats down
upon its slow-moving mass, and this cannot make a pkce
for it with sufficient speed, because it is held up by the
rest of the water ; and so the water that descends, not
being willing to slacken its course, turns round after it
has struck, and continues its first movement in circling
eddies, and so fulfils its desire down in the depth ; for in
these same eddies it finds nothing more than its own
movement, which is attended by a succession of circles,
one within the other ; and by thus revolving in circles,
its course becomes longer and more continuous, because
it meets with no obstacle except itself; and this motion
eats away and consumes the banks, and they fall head-
long in ruin. ... (^60 r.)
OF WAVES
The wave is the recoil of the stroke, and it will be
greater or less in proportion as the stroke itself is greater
or less. A wave is never found alone, but is mingled
with as many other waves as there are uneven places in the
object where the said wave is produced. At one and the
same time there will be moving over the greatest wave
of a sea innumerable other waves proceeding in different
directions. If you throw a stone into a sea with various
shores, all the waves which strike against these shores
are thrown back towards where the stone has struck, and
on meeting others advancing, they never interrupt each
other's course. Waves of equal volume, velocity, and
power, when they encounter each other in opposing
OF WAVES 99
motion, recoil at equal angles, the one from the stroke
of the other. That wave will be of greater elevation
which is created by the greater stroke, and the same is
true of the converse. The wave produced in small tracts
of water will go and return many times from the spot
which has been struck. The wave goes and returns so
many more tinies in proportion as the sea which produces
it contains a less quantity of water, and so conversely.
Only on the high sea do the waves advance without ever
turning in recoil. In lesser tracts of water the same stroke
gives birth to many motions of advance and recoil.
The greatest wave is covered with innumerable other
waves moving in different directions ; and these have a
greater or less depth as they are occasioned by a greater
or less power. The greatest wave is covered with various
waves, which move in as many different directions as
there were different places from which they separated
themselves. The same wave produced within a small tract
of water has a greater number of other waves proceeding
over itself, in proportion to the greater strength of its
stroke and recoil from the opposite shores. Greater is
the motion of the wave than that of the water of which it
is composed. Many waves turned in different directions
can be created between the surface and the bottom of the
same body of water at the same time. The eddying move-
ments can accompany the direct movements of each wave.
All the impressions caused by things striking upon
the water can penetrate one another without being
destroyed. One wave never penetrates another; but
they only recoil from the spot where they strike.
(C. A. 84 v. ,)
ioo OF THE EARTH'S INCREASE
INSTANCES AND DEDUCTIONS AS TO THE EARTH*S
INCREASE
Take a vase, fill it full of pure earth, and set it up on
a roof. You will see how immediately the green herbs
will begin to shoot up, and how these, when fully grown,
will cast their various seeds ; and after the children have
thus fallen at the feet of their parents, you will see the
herbs, having cast their seeds, becoming withered and
falling back again to the earth, and within a short time
becoming changed into the earth's substance and giving
it increase ; after this you will see the seeds springing up
and passing through the same course, and so you will
always see the successive generations after completing
their natural course, by their death and corruption giving
increase to the earth. And if you let ten years elapse
and then measure the increase in the soil, you will be
able to discover how much the earth in general has in-
creased, and then by multiplying you will see how great
has been the increase of the earth in the world during a
thousand years. Some may say that this instance of the
vase which I have mentioned does not justify the deduc-
tion based upon it, because one sees in the case of these
vases, that for the prize of the flowers that are looked
for, a part of the soil is frequently taken away, and its
place is filled up with new rich soil ; and I reply to them
that as the soil which is added there is a blend of rich fat
substances and broken bits of all sorts of things, it cannot
be said to be pure earth, and this mass of substances,
decaying, and so losing in part their shape, becomes
changed into a rich ooze, which feeds the roots of the
OF THE SALT OF THE SEA ici
plants above them ; and this is the reason why it may
appear to you that the earth is lessened ; but if you
allow the plants that grow in it to die, and their seeds to
spring up, then in time you will behold its increase.
For do you not perceive how, among the high moun-
tains, the walls of ancient and ruined cities are being
covered over and concealed by the earth's increase ?
Nay, have you not seen how, on the rocky summits
of the mountains, the live stone itself has in course of
time swallowed up by its growth some column which it
supported, and stripping it bare as with shears, and
grasping it tightly, has left the impress of its fluted form
in the living rock ? (C. A. 265 r. A)
The water wears away the mountains and fills up the
valleys, and if it had the power, it would reduce the
earth to a perfect sphere. (C, A. 185 v. <r.)
If a drop of water falls into the sea when it is calm,
it must of necessity be that the whole surface of the sea
is raised imperceptibly, seeing that water cannot be com-
pressed within itself, like air. (C. A. 20 r. //.)
WHY WATER IS SALT
Pliny says in his second book, in the hundred and
third chapter, that the water of the sea is salt because
the heat of the sun scorches and dries up the moisture
and sucks it up and thereby greatly increases the salt
savour of the sea.
But this cannot be admitted because, if the saltness
io2 OF THE SALT OF THE SEA
of the sea were caused by the heat of the sun, there is no
doubt that the lakes and pools and marshes would be more
salt in proportion as their waters have less movement and
depth, but on the contrary experience shows us that the
waters of these marshes are entirely free from saltness.
It is also stated by Pliny, in the same chapter, that this
saltness might arise because, after the subtraction of
every sweet and tenuous portion such as the heat readily
draws to itself, the more bitter and coarser portion will
be left behind, and in consequence the water on the
surface is sweeter than that at the bottom. But this is
contradicted by the reasons given above, whence it follows
that the same thing would happen with marshes and
other tracts of water which become dried up by the heat.
It has also been said that the saltness of the sea is the
sweat of the earth, but to this we may reply that then
all the springs of water which penetrate through the
earth would be salt. The conclusion, therefore, is that
the saltness of the sea is due to the numerous springs of
water, which, -in penetrating the earth, find the salt
mines, and dissolving parts of these carr^ them away with
.them to the ocean and to the other seas, from whence
they are never lifted* by the clouds which produce the
rivers. So the sea would be more salt in our times than
it has ever been at any time previously ; and if it were
argued by the adversary that in an infinite course of
time the sea would either become dried up or congealed
into salt, to this I reply that the salt is restored to the
earth by the setting free of the earth which is raised up
together with the salt it has acquired, and the riwrs restore
it to the earth over which they flow- (G -48 ?.}
OF THE ACTION OF WATER 103
If a stone is thrown into still water it will form circles
equidistant from their centre ; but if into a moving river
the circles formed will lengthen out and be almost oval
in shape, and will travel on together with their centre
away from the spot where it was first made, following
the course of the [stream] ... (787 [39] r.)
Water will leap up far higher than it has fallen, through
the violent movement caused by the air which finds itself
shut in within the bubbles of the water, and which after-
wards rises and floats like bells upon the surface of the
water. Returning to the place where it strikes, the
water is again submerged by the blow, so that the air
finds itself hemmed in between the water which drives
it down and that which encounters it, and being pressed
upon with such fury and violence, suddenly bursts through
the water which serves it as a covering, and, like a
thunderbolt emerging from the clouds, so this air emerges
from the water, carrying with it a part of the water 1
which previously formed its covering. (/ 69 [21] #.)
THE DESTRUCTION OF MARSHES WILL BE BROU IT ABOUT
WHEN" TURBID RIVERS FLOW INTO THEM
This is proved by the , fact that where the river flows
swiftly it washes away the soil, and where it delays there
it leaves its deposit, and both for this reason, and because
water never travels so slowly in rivers as it does in the
marshes of the valleys, the movement of the waters there
is imperceptible. But in these marshes the river has to
enter through a low, narrow, winding channel, and it hsfc
1 MS. has 'aria,* air.
io 4 OF THE EARTH'S SURFACE
to flow out over a large area of but little depth ; and
this is necessary because the water flowing in the river
is thicker and more laden with earth in the lower than
in the upper part ; and the sluggish water of the marshes
also is the same, but the variation between the lightness
and heaviness of the upper and lower waters of the
marshes far exceeds that in the currents of rivers, in
which the lightness of the upper part differs but little
from the heaviness of the part below.
So the conclusion is that the marsh will be destroyed
because it is receiving turbid water below, while above,
on the opposite side of the same marsh, only clear water
is flowing out ; and, consequently, the bed of the marsh
will of necessity be raised by means of the soil which is
being continually discharged into it. ( 5 r.)
OF HOW THE SEA CHANGES THE WEIGHT OF
THE EARTH
The shells of oysters and other similar creatures which
are born in the mud of the sea, testify to us of the
change in the earth round the centre of our elements.
This is proved as follows : the mighty rivers always
flow turbid because of the earth stirred up in them
through the friction of their waters upon their bed and
against the banks ; and this process of destruction
uncovers the tops of the ridges formed by the layers of
these shells, which are embedded in the mud of the sea
where they were born when the salt waters covered
them* And these same ridges were from time to time
covered over by varying thicknesses of mud which had
OF THE FLOOD 105
been brought down to the sea by the rivers In floods of
varying magnitude ; and in this way these shells remained
walled up and dead beneath this mud, which became
raised to such a height that the bed of the sea emerged
into the air. And now these beds are of so great a
height that they have become hills or lofty mountains,
and the rivers, which wear away the sides of these
mountains, lay bare the strata of the shells, and so the
light surface of the earth is continually raised, and
the antipodes draw nearer to the centre of the earth,
and the ancient beds of the sea become chains of
mountains. ( 4 ^.)
DOUBT
Here a doubt arises, and that is as to whether the
Flood which came in the time of Noah was universal
or not, and this would seem not to have been the case for
the reasons which will now be given. We have it in the
Bible that the said Flood was caused by forty days and
forty nights of continuous and universal rain, and that
this rain rose ten cubits above the highest mountain in
the world. But, consequently, if it had been the case
that the rain was universal, it would have formed in
itself a covering around our globe which is spherical
in shape ; and a sphere has every part of its circum-
ference equally distant from its centre, and therefore, on
the sphere of water finding itself in the aforesaid con-
dition, it becomes impossible for the water on its surface
to move, since water does not move of its own accord
unless to descend. How then did the waters of so great
a Flood depart if it is proved that they had no power
io6 OF MARINE SHELLS
of motion? If it departed, how did it move, unless it
went upwards ? At this point natural causes fail us, and
therefore in order to resolve such a doubt we must needs
either call in a miracle to our aid or else sajr that all this
water was evaporated by the heat of the sun.
OF THE FLOOD AND OF MARINE SHELLS
If you should say that the shells which are visible at the
present time within the borders of Italy, far away from
the sea and at great heights, are due to the Flood having
deposited them there, I reply that, granting this Flood to
have risen seven cubits above the highest mountain, as
he has written who measured it, these shells which always
inhabit near the shores of the sea ought to be found
lying on the mountain sides, and not at so short a
distance above their bases, and all at the same level,
layer upon layer.
Should you say that the nature of these shells is to
keep near the edge of the sea, and that as the sea rose
in height the shells left their former place and followed
the rising waters up to their highest level : to this
I reply that the cockle is a creature incapable of more
rapid movement than the &fail out of water, or is even
somewhat slower, since it does not swim, but makes
a furrow in the sand, and supporting itself by means of
the sides of this furrow it will travel between three and
four braccia in a day ; and therefore with such a motion
as this it could not have travelled from the Adriatic sea
as far as Monferrato in' Lombardy, a distance of two
OF MARINE SHELLS 107
hundred and fifty miles in forty days, as he has said
who kept a record of that time*
And if you say that the waves carried them there
they could not move by reason of their weight except
upon their base. And if you do not grant me this, at
any rate allow that they must have remained on the tops
of the highest mountains, and in the lakes which are shut
in among the mountains, such as the lake of Lario or
Como, and Lake Maggiore, and that of Fiesole and of
Perugia and others.
If you should say that the shells were empty and dead
when carried by the waves, I reply that where the dead
ones went the living were not far distant, and in these
mountains are found all living ones, for they are known
by the shells being in pairs and by their being in a row
without any dead, and a little higher up is the place
where all the dead with their shells separated have been
cast up by the waves, near where the rivers plunged in
mighty chasm into the sea. So it was with the Arno,
which fell from the Gonfolina near to Monte Lupo and
there left gravel deposits, which deposits are still to be
seen welded together and forming one concrete mass of
various kinds of stones from different localities and of
varying colour and hardness. And a little further on,
where the river turns towards Castel Florentine, the
hardening of the sand has formed tufa stone ; and below
this it has deposited the mud in which the shells lived ;
and the mud has risen by degrees as the floods of the
Arno poured their turbid waters into this sea. So from
time to time the floor of the sea was raised, and this
caused these shells to be in layers.
io8 OF MARINE SHELLS
This is seen in the cutting of Colle Gonzoli, which has
been made precipitous by the action of the Arno wearing
away its base, in which cutting the aforesaid layers of
shells are plainly to be seen in the bluish clay, and there
are also to be found other things from the sea.
(Leie. 8 b [R 987])
As for those who say that the shells are found over
a wide area and produced at a distance from the sea by
the nature of the locality and the disposition of the
heavens which moves and influences the place to such a
creation of animal life, to them it may be answered
that, granted such an influence over these animals, they
could not happen all in one line, save in the case of those
of the same species and age ; and not one old and another
young, one with an outer covering and another without,
one broken and another whole, nor one filled with sea
sand, and the fragments great and small of others inside
the whole shells which stand gaping open ; nor the claws
of crabs without the rest of their bodies ; nor with the
shells of other species fastened on to them, like animals
crawling over them and leaving the mark of their track
on the outside where it has eaten its way like a worm in
wood ; nor would there be found among them bones
and teeth of fish which some call arrows, others serpents'
tongues ; nor would so many parts of different animals
be found joined together, unless they had been thrown
up there upon the borders of the sea.
And the Flood could not have carried them there,
because things which are heavier than water do not float
high in the water, and the aforesaid things could not be
OF PETRIFIED FISHES 109
at such heights unless they had been carried there
floating on the waves, and that is impossible on account
of their weight.
Where the valleys have never been covered by the
alt waters of the sea, there the shells are never found.
(Leic. 9 a [R 988])
Since things are far more ancient than letters, it is
not to be wondered at if in our days there exists no
record of how the aforesaid seas extended over so many
countries ; and if moreover such record ever existed, the
wars, the conflagrations, the deluges of the waters, the
changes in speech and habits have destroyed every
vestige of the past. But sufficient for us is the testimony
of things produced in the salt waters and now found
again in the high mountains far from the seas.
(Leic. 3 1 a [R 984])
OF THE BONES OF FISHES FOUND IN THOSE THAT
HAVE BEEN PETRIFIED
All the creatures that have their bones within their
skin, on being covered over by the mud from the in-
undations of rivers which have left their accustomed beds,
are at once enclosed in a mould by this mud. And so
in course of time as the channels of the rivers become
lower, these creatures being embedded and shut in within
the mud, and the flesh and organs being worn away and
only the bones remaining, while even these have lost
their natural order of arrangement, they have fallen
down into the base of the mould which has been formed
by their impress ; and as the mud becomes lifted above
the level of the stream, the water runs away so that it
i to OF SHELLS
dries and becomes first a sticky paste and then changes
into stone, enclosing whatsoever it finds within itself,
and itself filling up every cavity ; and finding the
hollow part of the mould formed by these creatures, it
percolates gradually through the tiny crevices in the
earth through which the air that is within escapes away,
that is laterally, for it cannot escape upwards since there
the crevices are filled up by the moisture descending
into the cavity, nor can it escape downwards because the
moisture which has already fallen has closed up the
crevices. There remain the openings at the side, whence
this air, condensed and pressed down upon by the
moisture which descends, escapes with the same slow rate
of progress as that of the moisture which descends there ;
and this paste as it dries becomes stone which is devoid
of weight, and preserves the exact shapes of the creatures
which have there made the mould, and encloses their
bones within it. (F 79 *.}
SHELLS AND THE REASON OF THEIR SHAPE
The creature that resides within the shell constructs
its dwelling with joints and seams and roofing and the
other various parts, just as man does in the house in
which he dwells ; and this creature expands the house
and roof gradually in proportion as its body increases
and as it is attached to the sides of these shells. Conse-
quently the brightness and smoothness which these shells
possess on the inner side is somewhat dulled at the point
where they are attached to the creature that dwells there,
and the hollow of it is roughened, ready to receive the
OF PETRIFACTION in
knitting together of the muscles by means of which the
creature draws itself in when it wishes to shut itself up
within its house.
When nature is on the point of creating stones, it
produces a kind of sticky paste, which, as it dries, forms
itself into a solid mass together with whatever it has
enclosed there, which, however, it does not change into
stone but preserves within itself in the form in which it
has found them. This is why leaves are found whole
within the rocks which are formed at the bases of the
mountains, together with a mixture of different kinds of
things, just as they have been left there by the floods from
the rivers which have occurred in the autumn seasons ;
and there the mud caused by the successive inundations
has covered them over, and then this mud grows into
one mass together with the aforesaid paste, and becomes
changed into successive layers of stone which correspond
with the layers of the mud. (F 80 r.)
OF CREATURES WHICH HAVE THEIR BONES ON THE
OUTSIDE, LIKE COCKLES, SNAILS, OYSTERS, SCOLLOPS,
* BOUOLI ' AND THE LIKE, WHICH ARE OF INNUMER-
ABLE KINDS
When the floods of the rivers which were turbid with
fine mud deposited this upon the creatures which dwelt
beneath the waters near the ocean borders, these creatures
became embedded in this mud, and finding themselves
entirely covered under a great weight of mud they were
forced to perish for lack of a supply of the creatures on
which they were accustomed to feed.
ii2 OF PETRIKACTiUJN
In course of time the level of the sea became lower,
and as the salt water flowed away this mud became
changed into stone ; and such of these shells as had lost
their inhabitants became filled up in their stead with
mud ; and consequently, during the process of change of
all the surrounding mud into stone, this mud also which
was within the frames of the half-opened shells, since by
the opening of the shell it was joined to the rest of the
mud, became also itself changed into stone ; and there-
fore all the frames of these shells were left between two
petrified substances, namely that which surrounded them
and that which they enclosed.
These are still to be found in many places, and almost
all the petrified shell fish in the rocks of the mountains
still have their natural frame round them, and especially
those which were of a sufficient age to be preserved by
reason of their hardness, while the younger ones which
were already in great part changed into chalk were
penetrated by the viscous and petrifying moisture.
OF SHELLS IN MOUNTAINS
And if you wish to say that the shells are produced
by nature in these mountains by means of the influence
of the stars, in what way will you show that this influence
produces in the very same place shells of various sizes
and varying in age, and of different kinds ?
SHINGLE
And how will you explain to me the fact of the shingle
being all stuck together and lying in layers at different
OF PETRIFIED THINGS 113
altitudes upon the high mountains ? For there there is
to be found shingle from divers parts carried from
various countries to the same spot by the rivers in their
course ; and this shingle is nothing but pieces of stone
which have lost their sharp edges from having been rolled
over and over for a long time, and from the various
blows and falls which they have met with during the pas-
sage of the waters which have brought them to this spot,
LEAVES
And how will you account for the very great number
of different kinds of leaves embedded in the high rocks
of these mountains, and for the altga^ the seaweed, which
is found lying intermingled with the shells and the sand ?
And in the same way you will see all kinds of petrified
things together with ocean crabs broken in pieces and
separated, and mixed with their shells. (F go v.)
WHAT IS FORCE ?
Force I define as an incorporeal agency, an invisible
power, which by means of unforeseen external pressure
is caused by the movement stored up and diffused within
bodies which are withheld and turned aside from their
natural uses ; imparting to these an active life of marvel-
lous power, it constrains all created things to change of
form and position, and hastens furiously to its desired
death, changing as it goes according to circumstances.
When it is slow its strength is increased, and speed
enfeebles it. It is born in violence and dies in liberty ;
and the greater it is the more quickly it is consumed.
It drives away in fury whatever opposes its destruction.
H
ti 4 OF FORCE
It desires to conquer and slay the cause of opposition,
and in conquering destroys itself. It waxes more power-
ful where it finds the greater obstacle. Everything
instinctively flees from death. Everything when under
constraint itself constrains other things. Without force
nothing moves. The body in which it is born neither
grows in weight nor in form. None of the movements
that it makes are lasting. It increases by effort and
disappears when at rest. The body within which it is
confined is deprived of liberty. Often also by its move-
ment it generates new force. (A 34 *.)
OF WHAT FORCE IS
Force I define as a spiritual power, incorporeal and
invisible, which with brief life is produced in those bodies
which as the result of accidental violence are brought
out of their natural state and condition.
I have said spiritual because in this force there is an
active, incorporeal life ; and I call it invisible because the
body in which it is created does not increase either in
weight or in size ; and of brief duration because it desires
perpetually to subdue its cause, and when this is subdued
it kills itself. (B 63 /,)
AGAINST PERPETUAL MOTION
No inanimate object will move of its own accord ;
consequently when in motion it will be moved by unequal
power, unequal that is in time and velocity, or unequal in
weight ; and when the impulse of the first motive power
ceases the second will cease abruptly, (j 22 *.)
Every impression is preserved for a time in its sensi-
OF IMPRESSIONS 115
tive object ; and that which was of greater power will
be preserved in its object for a longer time, and for a
shorter time with the less powerful. In this connection
I apply the term sensitive to such object as by any
impression is changed from that which was at first an
insensible object; that is one which, while changing
from its first state, preserves within itself no impression
of the thing which has moved it. The sensible im-
pression is that of a blow received upon a resounding
substance, such as bells and such like things, or like the
note in the ear, which, indeed, unless it preserved the
impression of the notes, could never derive pleasure from
hearing a voice alone ; for when it passes immediately
from the first to the fifth note, the effect is as though
one heard these two notes at the same time, and thus
perceived the true harmony which the first makes with
the fifth ; but if the impression of the first note did not
remain in the ear for an appreciable space of time, the
fifth, which follows immediately after the first, would
seem alone, and one note cannot create any harmony,
and consequently any song whatsoever occurring alone
would seem to be devoid of charm.
So, too, the radiance of the sun or other luminous
body remains in the eye for some time after it has been
seen ; and the motion of a single firebrand whirled
rapidly in a circle causes this circle to seem one con-
tinuous and uniform flame.
The drops of rain water seem continuous threads
descending from their clouds ; and so herein one may
see how the eye preserves the impressions of the moving
things which it sees.
n6 OF IMPRESSIONS
The insensible objects which do not preserve the
impressions of the things which are opposite to them
are mirrors, and any polished substance which, so soon
as ever the thing of whiclj it bears the impression is
removed from before it, becomes at once entirely
deprived of that impression. We may, therefore, con-
clude that it is the action of the mover pressing against
the body moved by it which moves this body in the
direction in which it moves*
Amongst the cases of impressions being preserved in
various bodies we may also instance the wave, the eddies
of the water, the winds in the air, and a knife stuck
into a table, which, on being bent in one direction and
then released, retains for a long time a quivering move-
ment, all its movements being reciprocal one of another,
and all may be said to be approaching towards the
perpendicular of the surface where the knife is fixed
by its point.
The voice impresses itself through the air without
displacement of air, and strikes upon the objects and
returns back to its source.
The concussion of liquid bodies with solid is of a
different character to the above-mentioned cases of con-
cussion ; and the concussion of liquid with liquid also
varies from the foregoing.
Of the concussion of solid with liquid there is seen an
example in the shores of the ocean, which receive the
waters full on their rocks and hurl them against the
steep crags ; and oftentimes it happens that before the
course of the wave is half completed, the stones carried
by it return to the sea from whence they came ; and their
OF THE PUPIL OF THE EYE 117
power of destruction is increased by the might of the
wave which falls back from the lofty cliffs.
(C. A. 360 r. a.)
Seeing that the images of the objects are all spread
throughout all the air which surrounds them, and are all
in every point of the same, it must be that the images
of our hemisphere enter and pass together with those of
all the heavenly bodies through the natural point, in
which they merge and become united by mutually pene-
trating and intersecting each other, whereby the image
of the moon in the east and the image of the sun in
the west at this natural point become united and blended
together with our hemisphere.
O marvellous Necessity, thou with supreme reason
constrainest all effects to be the direct result of their
causes, and by a supreme and irrevocable law every
natural action obeys thee by the shortest possible
process !
Who would believe that so small a space could contain
the images of all the universe ? O mighty process !
What talent can avail to penetrate a nature such as
thine ? What tongue will it be that can unfold so great
a wonder ? Verily, none ! This it is that guides the
human discourse to the considering of divine things.
Here the figures, here the colours, here all the images
of every part of the universe are contracted to a point*
O what point is so marvellous !
O wonderful, O stupendous Necessity, thou by thy
law constrainest all effects to issue from their causes in
n8 OF THE NATURE OF SIGHT
the briefest possible way ! These are the miracles, . . .
forms already lost, mingled together in so small a space,
it can recreate and reconstitute by its dilation.
How it may be that from indistinct causes there may
issue effects manifest and immediate, as are the images
which have passed through the aforesaid natural point.
Write in thy Anatomy what proportion there is be-
tween the diameters of all the lenses of the eye, and
the distance from these to the crystalline lens.
(C. A. 345 v . &.)
OF THE NATURE OF SIGHT
I say that sight is exercised by all animals through
the medium of light ; and if against this any one should
instance the sight of nocturnal animals, I would say that
these in exactly the same way are subject to the same
law of nature. For, as one may readily understand, the
senses, when they receive the images of things, do not
send forth from themselves any actual power ; but on
the contrary the air which is between the object and the
sense, serving as a medium, incorporates within itself
the images of things, and by its own contact with the
sense presents them to it, if the objects either by sound
or smell project themselves to the eye or the nose by
virtue of their incorporeal powers* Here the light is
not necessary, nor is it made use of. The forms of
objects do not enter into the air as images unless they
are luminous ; this being so, the eye cannot receive the
same from that air which does not contain them, but only
OF THE EYE 119
touches their surface. If you wish to speak of the many
animals which hunt their prey by night, I answer that
when that small amount of light sufficient for them to see
their way fails them, they avail themselves of their powers
of hearing and smell, which are not impeded by the
darkness, and in which they are far in advance of man.
If you watch a cat in the day-time leaping among a lot
of pieces of crockery you will see that these will remain
whole ; but if it does the same by night it will break a
considerable number. Night birds do not fly unless the
moon is shining either full or in part, but their time of
feeding is between the hour of sunset and the total dark-
ness of the night.
No substance can be comprehended without light and
shade ; light and shade are caused by light.
(C. A. 90 r. b.}
OF THE EYE
Since the eye is the window of the soul, the latter
is always in fear of being deprived of it, to such an
extent that when anything moves in front of it which
causes a man sudden fear, he does not use his hands to
protect his heart, which supplies life to the head where
dwells the lord of the senses, nor his hearing, nor sense
of smell or taste ; but immediately the affrighted sense,
not contented with shutting the eyes and pressing their
lids together with the utmost force, causes him to turn
suddenly in the opposite direction ; and not as yet
feeling secure he covers them with the one hand and
stretches out the other to form a screen against the
object of his fean (C. A. 119 v. a.)
120 OF THE EYE
The eye, which is used to the darkness, on suddenly
beholding the light is hurt and therefore closes quickly,
being unable to endure the light. This is due to the
fact that the pupil in order to recognise any object in
the darkness to which it has grown accustomed, increases
in size, employing all its force to transmit to the re-
ceptive part the image of things in shadow. And the
light, suddenly penetrating, causes too large a part of
the pupil which was in darkness to be hurt by the
radiance which bursts in upon it, this being the exact
opposite of the darkness to which the eye has already
grown accustomed and habituated, and which seeks to
maintain itself there, and will not quit its hold without
inflicting injury upon the eye.
One might also say that the pain caused to the eye
when in shadow by the sudden light arises from the
sudden contraction of the pupil, which does not occur
except as the result of the sudden contact and friction of
the sensitive parts of the eye. If you would see an
instance of this, observe and note carefully the size of
the pupil when any one is looking at a dark place, and
then cause a candle to be brought before it, and make
it rapidly approach the eye, and you will see an in-
stantaneous contraction of the pupil. (C 16 r.)
OF BODILY MOVEMENTS
I say that the note of the echo is cast back to the ear
after it has struck, just as the images of objects strike
the mirror and are thence reflected to the eye. And in
the same way as these images fall from the object to the
mirror and from the mirror to the eye at equal angles, so
OE THE EYE 121
the note of the echo will strike and rebound within the
hollow where it has first struck at equal angles to the ear.
(C 1 6 r.)
If the darkness of the night is a hundred degrees
more intense than that of the evening, and the eye of
the man doubles the size of its pupil in the darkness,
then the darkness is halved to the eye, since its power of
vision has doubled the half; there remain, therefore,
fifty degrees of intensity of darkness.
And if in the said darkness the eye of the owl expands
its pupil a hundred times, the power of vision increases
a hundred fold, so that a hundred degrees of power of
vision are acquired ; and since things which are the
equal of each other do not exceed each other, the bird
sees in the darkness with the pupil increased a hundred-
fold just as in the day when the pupil is less by ninety-
nine hundredths.
And if you should say that this creature cannot see
light by day and for this reason remains in concealment,
the answer to this is that the bird only conceals itself by
day in order to escape from the crowd of the birds who
are continually flocking round it in great numbers with a
loud clamour, and very often they would lose their lives
if they did not hide themselves in the grottoes and
caverns of the high rocks.
Of the nocturnal animals only in the lion tribe does
the pupil alter its shape as it grows larger or smaller ;
for when it is at the limit of its contraction it is long in
form, when it is at the middle it is oval, and when it
reaches its utmost expansion it is circular.
(C. A. 262 r. d)
122 OF THE NATURE OF SIGHT
I say that the power of vision extends by means of the
visual rays as far as the surface of bodies which are not
transparent, and that the power possessed by these bodies
extends up to the power of vision, and that every similar
body fills all the surrounding air with its image. Each
body separately and all together do the same, and not
only do they fill it with the likeness of their shape, but
also with that of their power.
EXAMPLE
You see with the sun when it is at the centre of our
hemisphere, how there are the images of its form in all
the parts where it reveals itself, and you see how in all
those same places there are also the images of its radiance,
and to these must also be added the image of the power
of its heat ; and all these powers proceed from the same
source by means of radiant lines which issue from its
body and end in the opaque objects without its thereby
undergoing any diminution.
The north star remains continually with the images of
its power spread out, and becoming incorporated not only
in thin but in thick bodies, in those transparent and those
opaque, but it does not on this account suffer any loss
of its shape.
CONFUTATION
Those mathematicians, then, who say that the eye has
no spiritual power which extends to a distance from
itself, since, if it were so, it could not be without great
diminution in the use of the power of vision, and that
though the eye were as great as the body of the earth
OF PROJECTED POWER 123
it would of necessity be consumed in beholding the
stars ; and for this reason they maintain that the eye
takes in but does not send forth anything from itself,
EXAMPLE
What will these say of the musk which always keeps
a great quantity of the atmosphere charged with its
odour, and which, if it be carried a thousand miles, will
permeate a thousand miles with that thickness of atmo-
sphere without any diminution of itself?
Or will they say that the sound i which the bell makes
on its contact with the clapper, which daily of itself
fills the whole countryside with its sound, must of
necessity consume this bell ?
Certainly, it seems to me, there are such men as these
and that is all that need be said of them.
EXAMPLES
Is not that snake called lamia seen daily by the rustics
attracting to itself with fixed gaze, as the magnet attracts
iron, the nightingale, which with mournful song hastens
to her death ?
It is said also that the wolf has power by its look to
cause men to have hoarse voices.
The basilisk is said to have the power by its glance to
deprive of life every living thing.
The ostrich and the spider are said to hatch their eggs
by looking at them.
Maidens are said to have power in their eyes to attract
to themselves the love of men.
The fish called linno, which some name after S. Ermo,
i2 4 OF LANDSCAPE AT NOON
which is found off the coasts of Sardinia, is it not seen
at night by the fishermen shedding light with its eyes
over a great quantity of water as though they were two
candles? And all those fishes, which come within the
compass of this radiance, immediately come up to the
surface of the water and turn over, dead. (C. A. 270 ?. c.)
Landscapes are of a more beautiful azure when in fine
weather the sun is at noon than at any other hour of the
day, because the atmosphere is free from moisture ; and
viewing them under such conditions, ycu see the trees of
a beautiful green at their extremities, and the shadows
dark towards the centre ; and in the further distance the
atmosphere, which is interposed between you and them,
appears more beautiful when beyond it there is some
darker substance, and consequently the azure is most
beautiful. Objects seen from that side on which the sun
is shining will not display their shadows to you. " But if
you are lower than the sun, you will see what was not
seen by the sun, and that will be all in shadow. The
leaves of the trees which are between you and the sun
are of two principal colours, namely, a most beautiful
vivid green, and the reflection of the atmosphere, which
illumines whatever is not visible to the sun, and the parts
in shadow which only face the earth, and the darkest
parts which are surrounded by something other than
darkness. The trees by the countryside which are
between you and the sun are far more beautiful than
those in respect to which you are between the sun and
them, and this is the case because those which are in the
same direction as the sun show their leaves transparent
PLATE i
LANDSCAPh WITH CLOUD EFFECT
Face p. 125
OF ATMOSPHERIC EFFECTS 125
towards their extremities, and such as are not transparent,
that is at the tips, reflect the light ; and the shadows are
dark because they are not covered by anything.
The trees, when you place yourself between them and
the sun, will only display to you their light and natural
colour, which is not of itself very conspicuous, and
besides this, certain reflected Iights 3 which, owing to their
not being against a background that offers a strong
contrast to their brightness, are but little in evidence ;
and if you are at a lower altitude than these, then those
parts of them may be visible, on which the light of the
sun does not fall, and these will be dark.
IN THE WIND
But if you are on the side from whence the wind is
blowing, you will see the trees look much lighter than
you would see them from the other sides, and this is due
to the fact that the wind turns up the reverse side of the
leaves, which is in all cases much paler than their right
side ; and especially will they be very light if the wind
blows from the quarter where the sun happens to be, and
if you have your back turned to it. (#. M. 26$, Ar. 113 v.)
I have long had the opportunity of observing many
different [atmospheric effects], and once, above Milan,
over in the direction of Lake Maggiore, I saw a cloud
shaped like a huge mountain made up of banks of fire,
because the rays of the sun which was then setting red
on the horizon had dyed it with their colour. This great
cloud drew to itself all the little clouds which were
round about it. And the great cloud remained stationary
126 OF SUN-RISE
and retained the light of the sun on its apex for an hour
and a half after sunset, so enormous was its size. And
about two hours after night had fallen there arose a
stupendous and phenomenal wind storm.
(Lfif. 28 a [R 1021.])
At the first hour of the day the atmosphere in the south
near to the horizon has a dim haze of rose-flushed clouds ;
towards the west it grows darker, and towards the east
the damp vapour of the horizon shows brighter than the
actual horizon itself, and the white of the houses in the east
is scarcely to be discerned, while in the south, the further
distant they are, the more they assume a dark rose-flushed
hue, and even more so in the west ; and with the shadows
it is the contrary, for these disappear before the white.
[. . .] in the east, and the tops of the trees are more
visible than tfteir bases, since the atmosphere is thicker
lower down, and the structure becomes more indistinct
at a height.
And in the south, the trees may sc -i-cly be distin-
guished by reason of the vapour which urkens in the
west and grows clear in the east. (c. A. 176 r. b.}
OF THE COLOUR OF THE ATMOSPHERE
I say that the blue which is seen in the atmosphere is
not its own colour, but is caused by the heated moisture
having evaporated into the most minute imperceptible
particles, which the beams of the solar rays attract and
cause to seem luminous against the deep intense dark-
ness of the region of fire that forms a covering above
them. And this may be seen, as I myself saw it, by
AN ASCENT OF MONTE ROSA 127
any one who ascends Monboso (Monte Rosa), a peak of
the chain of Alps that divides France from Italy, at
whose base spring the four rivers which flow as many
different ways and water all Europe, and there is no
other mountain that has its base at so great an elevation.
This mountain towers to so great a height, as almost to
pass above all the clouds ; and snow seldom falls there,
but only hail in summer when the clouds are at their
greatest height ; and there this hail accumulates, so that
were it not for the infrequency l of the clouds thus rising
and discharging themselves, which does not happen twice
in an age, there would be an enormous mass of ice there,
built up by the various layers of the hail ; and this I
found very thick in the middle of July. And I saw the
atmosphere dark overhead, and the rays of the sun
striking the mountain had far more brightness than in
the plains below, because less thickness of atmosphere lay
between the summit of this mountain and the sun.
As a further example of the colour of the atmosphere,
we may take the case of the smoke produced by old dry
wood, for as it comes out of the chimneys it seems to be
a pronounced blue when seen between the eye and a dark
space, but as it rises higher and comes between the eye
and the luminous atmosphere, it turns immediately to an
ashen grey hue, and this comes to pass because it no
longer has darkness beyond it, but in place of this the
luminous atmosphere. But if this smoke comes from
new green wood, then it will not assume a blue colour,
because, as it is not transparent, and is heavily charged
1 MS. has * reta,' which Dr, Richter reads in sense of * malanno.' I have
adopted Dr. Solmi's suggestion ' rarita.'
128 OF THE COLOUR OF THE ATMOSPHERE
with moisture, it will have the effect of a dense cloud
which takes definite lights and shadows as though it were
a solid body.
The same is true of the atmosphere, which excessive
moisture renders white, while litde moisture acted upon
by heat causes it to be dark and of a dark blue colour ;
and this is sufficient as regards the definition of the
colour of the atmosphere, although one may also say that
if the atmosphere had this transparent blue as its natural
colour^ it would follow that wherever a greater quantity
of atmosphere came between the eye and the fiery
element, it would appear of a deeper shade of blue, as is
seen with blue glass and with sapphires, which appear
darker in proportion as they are thicker. The atmo-
sphere, under these conditions, acts in exactly the oppo-
site way, since where a greater quantity of it comes
between the eye and the sphere of fire, there it is seen
much whiter, and this happens towards the horizon ; and
in proportion as a lesser amount of atmosphere comes
between the eye and the sphere of fire, of so much the
deeper blue does it appear, even when we are in the low
plains. It follows therefore, from what I say, that the
atmosphere acquires its blueness from the particles of
moisture which catch the luminous rays of the sun.
We may also observe the difference between the atoms
of dust and those of the smoke seen in the sun's rays as
they pass through the chinks of the walls in dark rooms,
that the one seems the colour of ashes, and the other-
the thin smoke seems of a most beautiful blue. We
may see also, in the dark shadows of mountains, far from
the eye> that the atmosphere which is between the eye
OF THE COLOUR OF SMOKE 129
and these shadows will appear very blue, and in the por-
tion of these mountains which is in light, it will not vary
much from its first colour.
But whoever would see a final proof, should stain a
board with various different colours, among which he
should include a very strong black, and then over them
all he should lay a thin, transparent white, and he will
then perceive that the lustre of the white will nowhere
display a more beautiful blue than over the black, but
it must be very thin and finely ground.
(Leu. 4 a [R 300.])
When the smoke from dry wood comes between the
eye of the observer and some dark space it appears blue.
So the atmosphere appears blue because of the darkness
which is beyond it ; and if you look towards the horizon
of the sky, you will see that the atmosphere is not blue,
and this is due to its density ; and so at every stage as
you raise your eye up from this horizon to the sky
which is above you, you will find that the atmosphere
will seem darker, and this is because a lesser quantity of
air interposes between your eye and this darkness. And
if you are on the top of a high mountain the atmosphere
will seem darker above you just in proportion as it
becomes rarer between you and the said darkness ; and
this will be intensified at every successive stage of its
height, so that at the last it will remain dark.
That smoke will appear the bluest which proceeds
from the driest wood, and is nearest to the place of its
origin, and when it is seen against the darkest background
with the light of the sun upon it. (F 18 r.)
i
ijo A SAND-STORM PLANT LIFE
How at the mouths of certain valleys the gusts of
wind strike down upon the waters and scoop them out in
a great hollow, and carry the water up into the air in the
shape of a column and of the colour of cloud. And this
same thing I once saw taking place on a sand-bank in
the Arno, where the sand was hollowed out to a depth
of more than a man's stature, and the gravel of it was
removed and whirled a great distance apart, and assumed
in the air the form of a mighty campanile, and the
summit of it grew like the branches of a great pine, and
then it bent on meeting the swift wind which passed over
the mountains. (Leic. ^^ b [R 996.])
ihough nature has given sensibility to pain to such
living organisms as have the power of movement, in
order thereby to preserve the members which in this
movement are liable to diminish and be destroyed, the
living organisms which have no power of movement do
not have to encounter opposing objects, and plants con-
sequently do not need to have a sensibility to pain, and
so it comes about that if you break them they do not
feel anguish in their members as do the animals.
(#6o[iz]r.)
"Nothing grows in a spot where there is neither
sentient, fibrous, or rational life* The feathers grow
upon birds and change every year ; hairs grow upon
animals, and change every year except a part such as the
hairs of the beard in lions and cats and creatures like
these. The grass grows in the fields, the leaves upon
the trees, and every year these are renewed in great
PLATE 6
f*VH,
yf */J*f .
MS. WITH TEXT OF *PEL SITO DI VENERE' (FOR THE SHRINE OF
VENUS), ALSO ARCHITECTURAL STUDIES AND SKETCH
OF NEPTUNE WITH HIS HORSES
Face p. 131
THE EARTH AN ORGANISM 131
part. So then we may say that the earth has a spirit of
growth ; that its flesh is the soil, its bones are the suc-
cessive strata of the rocks which form the mountains,
its muscles are the tufa stone, its blood the springs of its
waters. The lake of blood that lies about the heart is
the ocean ; its breathing is by the increase and decrease
of the blood in its pulses, and even so in the earth is
the flow and ebb of the sea. And the heat of the spirit
of the world is the fire which is spread throughout the
earth ; and the dwelling-place of its creative spirit is in
the fires, which in divers parts of the earth are breathed
out in baths and sulphur mines, and in volcanoes, such
as Mount Aetna in Sicily, and many other places.
(Leic. 34 a [R loooj)
FOR THE SHRINE OF VENUS
You should make steps on four sides by which to
ascend to a plateau formed by nature on the summit of
a rock ; and let this rock be hollowed out, and supported
with pillars in front, and pierced beneath by a great
portico, wherein water should be falling into various
basins of granite and porphyry and serpentine, within re-
cesses shaped like a half-circle ; and let the water in
these be continually flowing over ; and facing this por-
tico towards the north, let there be a lake with a small
island in the centre, and on this have a thick and shady
wood. Let the waters at the top of the pillars be
poured down into vases standing at their bases, and
from these let there be flowing tiny rivulets.
From the coast. Setting out from the coast of
1 3 2 THE REALM OF VENUS
Cilicia towards the south, you discover the beauty of the
island of Cyprus, which . . .
(Windsor MSS. Notes et dessins sur les Altitudes df PRomme
[Rouveyre] 1 1 r.)
From the southern sea-board of Cilicia may be seen
to the south the beautiful island of Cyprus, which was
the realm of the goddess Venus ; and many there have
been, who, impelled by her loveliness, have had their
ships and rigging broken upon the rocks which lie
amidst the seething waves. Here the beauty of some
pleasant hill invites the wandering mariners to take their
ease among its flowery verdure, where the zephyrs con-
tinually come and go, filling with sweet odours the island
and the encompassing sea. Alas ! How many ships
have foundered there ! How many vessels have been
broken upon these rocks ! Here might be seen an
innumerable host of ships ; some broken in pieces and
half buried in sand ; here is visible the poop of one, and
there a prow ; here a keel and there a rib ; and it seems
like a day of judgment when there shall be a resurrection
of dead ships, so great is the mass that covers the whole
northern shore. There the northern winds resounding
make strange and fearful noises.
(Windsor MBS. Notes et dessins sur les Attitudes de FHommc
[Rouveyre] 11 v.)
When mountains fall headlong over hollow places they
shut in the air within their caverns, and this air, in order
to escape, breaks through the earth, and so produces
earthquakes.
OF A RIVER IN FLOOD 133
My opponent says this cannot be the case, for either
the whole mountain which covers the cavern falls or else
only the inner part of it ; and if the whole falls, then the
compressed air escapes through the opening of the cave
which is uncovered, while if only the inner part falls
then the compressed air escapes into the vacuum which
is left by the falling earth. (C. A. 289 v. b.)
Amid all the causes of the destruction of human
property, it seems to me that rivers on account of their
excessive and violent inundations hold the foremost place.
And if as against the fury of impetuous rivers any one
should wish to uphold fire, such an one would seem to
me to be lacking in judgment, for fire remains spent and
dead when fuel fails it, but against the irreparable
inundation caused by swollen and proud rivers no re-
source of human foresight can avail ; for in a succession
of raging and seething [waves], gnawing and tearing
away the high banks, growing turbid with the earth
from the ploughed fields, destroying the houses therein
and uprooting the tall trees it carries these as its prey
down to the sea which is its lair, bearing along with it
men, trees, animals, houses, and lands, sweeping away
every dike and every kind of barrier, bearing with it the
light things, and devastating and destroying those of
weight, creating big landslips out of small fissures, filling
up with its floods the low valleys, and rushing headlong
with insistent and inexorable mass of waters.
What a need there is of flight for whoso is near ! O
how many cities, how many lands, castles, villas and
houses has it consumed !
i 34 OF BIRDS OF PREY
How many of the labours of wretched husbandmen
have been rendered idle and profitless! How many
families has it brought to nought, and overwhelmed !
What shall I say of the herds of cattle which have been
drowned and lost !
And often issuing forth from its ancient rocky beds it
washes over the tilled [lands]. . . .
(C. A. 361 v. a.}
Amid the whirling currents of the winds were seen
a great number of companies of birds coming from
distant lands, and these appeared in such a way as to be
almost indistinguishable, for in their wheeling move-
ments at one time all the birds of one company were
seen edgewise, that is showing as little as possible of
their bodies, and at another time showing the whole
measure of their breadth, that is full in face ; and at
the time of their first appearance they took the form
of an indistinguishable cloud, and then the second
and third bands became by degrees more clearly
defined as they approached nearer to the eye of the
beholder.
And the nearest of the above-mentioned bands dropped
down low with a slanting movement, and settled upon
the dead bodies, which were borne along by the waves of
this great deluge, and fed upon them, and so continued
until such time as the buoyancy of the inflated dead
bodies came to fail, and with slow descent they sank
gradually down to the bottom of the waters.
(C. A. 354 ft ')
Like an eddying wind scouring through a hollow,
OF A ROCKY CAVERN 135
sandy valley, and with speeding course driving into its
vortex everything that opposes its furious onset. . . .
Not otherwise does the northern blast drive back with
its hurricane. . . . Nor does the tempestuous sea make
so loud a roaring when the northern blast beats it back
in foaming waves between Scylla and Charybdis, nor
Stromboli nor Mount Etna when the pent-up, sulphurous
fires, bursting open and rending asunder the mighty
mountain by their force, are hurling through the
air rocks and earth mingled together in the issuing
belching flames. . . .
Nor when Etna's burning caverns vomit forth and
give out again the uncontrollable element, and thrust it
back to its own region in fury, driving before it what-
ever obstacle withstands its impetuous rage. , . .
And drawn on by my eager desire, anxious to behold
the mighty ... of the varied and strange forms created
by the artificer nature, having wandered for some distance
among the overhanging rocks, I came to the mouth of
a huge cavern before which for a time I remained
stupefied, not having been aware of its existence, my
back bent to an arch, my left hand clutching my knee,
while with the right I made a shade for my lowered and
contracted eyebrows ; bending continually first one way
and then another in order to see whether I could discern
anything inside, though this was rendered impossible by
the intense darkness within ; and after remaining there
for a time, suddenly there were awakened within me two
emotions, fear and desire, fear of the dark, threatening
cavern, desire to see whether there might be any marvel-
lous thing therein. (5. Af. 26 3, ^.155 r.)
I3 6 OF A SEA MONSTER
O powerful and once living instrument of constructive
nature, thy great strength not availing thee, thou must
needs abandon thy tranquil life to obey the law which God
and time ordained for ail procreative nature ! To thee
availed not the branching, sturdy, dorsal fins wherewith
pursuing thy prey thou wert wont to plough thy way, tern-
pestuuusly tearing open the briny waves with thy breast.
O how many times the frightened shoals of dolphins
and big tunny fish were seen to flee before thy insensate
fury ; and thou, lashing with swift, branching fins and
forked tail, didst create in the sea mist and sudden
tempest, with loud uproar and foundering of ships ; with
mighty wave then didst heap up the open shores with the
frightened and terrified fishes, which thus escaping from
thee were left high and dry when the sea abandoned
them, and became the plenteous and abundant spoil of
the neighbouring peoples.
O time, swift despoiler of created things ! How
many kings, how many peoples hast thou brought low !
How many changes of state and circumstance have
followed since the wondrous form of this fish died here
in this hollow, winding recess ? Now destroyed by time
patiently thou liest within this narrow space, and with
thy bones despoiled and bare art become an armour and
support to the mountain which lies above thee, 1
1 The text of the above passage is in parts very indistinct. As my
transcript differs in ievera] places from that given by Dr. Richter (Literary
Works ofL.daP. 121 7), I give the passage in extensoi
O potcte c gia anjrnato struraeto dell arteficiosa natura | a te n6 valfido le
tue gra force ti chauene abadonare la traquilla vita obedjre alia legie | chel
che djo el tepo dje alia gienj trice natura a tette no ualse | le ramvte e (Leg)
OF THE FORESIGHT OF NATURE 137
O how many times hast thou been seen amid the waves
of the mighty, swelling ocean, towering like a mountain,
conquering and overcoming them ! And with black
finned back ploughing through the salt waves with proud
and stately bearing ! (C. A. 265 r. a.)
WHY NATURE DID NOT ORDAIN THAT ONE ANIMAL
SHOULD NOT LIVE BY THE DEATH OF ANOTHER
Nature being capricious, and taking pleasure in creat-
ing and producing a succession of new lives and forms
because she knows that they serve to increase her terres-
trial substance, is more ready and swift so to create than
time is to destroy ; and therefore she has ordained that
many of the animals shall serve as food one for the other.
And as her desire is still unsatisfied, she frequently sends
forth certain noisome and pestilential vapours upon the
rapidly increasing herds of animals, and especially upon
men, who increase very rapidly because other animals do
ha ghagliard(r)e (aprt) schiene cholle quali tu seghuitado la tua | pleda
(aprivis) solchavi chopetto apredo chotepessta le salse ode |
* O quate volte (fusti) furono vedute le Ipavrite schiere | de dalfini e de gra
tonnj fugi(<i)re dal inpia tua tua ffuria (pcchupare) \ ettu cho chol velocie
rarovte lalie cholla forcielluta choda fuminado gieneravj nel mare j nibia
(iatepessta) subita tepessta cho gra busso e somersione dj navilj cho gra | de
Odameto epievi gli schcp(er)ti liti (de gra) degli ipavritj essbigho | ttitj pesscj
e togledosi atte p(er) lasciato mare ii(#) masi in seccho djvenjvano sup(er)cha
e a | bodante pleda de vicinj popolj.
f (0 tepoquati re.)
* O tepo chonsumatore delle (dj tutte le) chose : ateri volgiedole | dai (to) alle
tratte vice nvuove e varie abitazionj (O quate \ monarchic cha o quati). O
tfipo (vicitore) velocie pledatore | della chleate chose quatj re quati popolj ai
tu djssfattj e qua | te mutazionj djsstatj e vari chasj (so) sono seghuitj po che
la mara | vgliosa forma dj q(ue)sto pesscie quj raorj | p(er) le chav(er)nose e
ritorte interiora |
* ora disfato dal tepo pazgte djaci j questo chivso locho chole jsspogliate
spolpate e ignjvde ossa | ai fatto (ra) armadura e sosstegnjo al sop(r)a possto
mote.'
1 38 OF THE END OF THE WORLD
not feed upon them, and if these causes were removed
the results would cease. So therefore this earth seeks to
lose its life, desiring only constant reproduction, and as 3
for the reason which you have assigned and expounded,
the effects are generally in harmony with their causes,
so animals are a type of the life of the world.
(B. M 263, Ar. 156^.)
The watery element remained pent up within the
raised banks of the rivers, and the sea is seen amid the
upheaved masses of the earth ; the surrounding air
served to bind together and circumscribe the earth's
manifold structure, because its mass which stood between
the water and the fiery element remained straitly com-
passed about, and deprived of the needful supply of
water. The rivers will remain without their waters;
the fertile earth will put forth no more her light leaves,
no more will the fields be decked with waving corn ; all
the animals will perish failing to find fresh grass for
fodder, and the ravening lions and wolves and other
beasts which live by prey will lack sustenance, and after
many desperate shifts men will be forced to abandon
their lives, and the human race will cease to be. Hence
the fertile and fruitful earth being deserted will be left
arid and sterile, but by reason of the stored-up moisture
of the water confined within its depths and by the very
activity of nature it will observe something of its law of
growth, until after having passed through the cold and
rarified air it will be forced to end its course in the
element of fire ; and then the surface of it will remain
burnt to a cinder, and this will be the end of all terres-
trial nature. (. M. 263, Ar. \ 5 j *.)
OF NOTHINGNESS OF THE ECHO 139
Nothingness has no centre, and its boundaries are
nothingness.
My opponent says that nothingness and a vacuum are
one and the same thing, having indeed two separate
names by which they are called, but not existing
separately in nature.
The reply is that whenever there exists a vacuum
there will also be the space which surrounds it, but
nothingness exists apart from occupation of space ; it
follows that nothingness and a vacuum are not the
same, for the one is divisible to infinity, and nothingness
cannot be divided because nothing can be less than it is ;
and if you were to take part from it this part would be
equal to the whole, and the whole to the part.
(C. A. 289 v. b.)
THE NOTE OF THE ECHO
The note of the echo is either continuous or inter-
mittent, it occurs alone or is united, is of brief or long
duration, finite or endless in sound, immediate or far
away. It is continuous when the surface on which the
echo is produced is uniformly concave. The note of
the echo is intermittent when the place which produces it
is broken and interrupted. It is alone when it is pro-
duced in one place only. It is united when it is produced
in several places. It is either brief or long-continuing,
as when it goes winding round within a bell which has
been struck, or in a cistern or other hollow space, or
in clouds wherein the note recurs at fixed distances in
regular intervals of time, ever uniformly growing fainte^
1 40 OF ACOUSTICS
and is like the wave that spreads itself out in a circle
over the sea.
The sound often seems to proceed from the direction
of the echo, and not from the place where the real sound
is ; and similarly it happened at Ghiera d'Adda, when a
fire which broke out there caused in the air twelve lurid
reflections upon twelve clouds, and the cause was not
perceived. (C. A. 77 v. )
OF THE SOUND WHICH SEEMS TO REMAIN IN THE
BELL AFTER THE STROKE
That sound which remains or seems to remain in the
bell after it has received the stroke is not in the bell
itself but in the ear of the listener, and the ear retains
within itself the image of the stroke of the bell which it
has heard, and only loses it by slow degrees, like that
which the impression of the sun creates in the eye,
which only by slow degrees becomes lost and is no
longer seen.
A PROOF TO THE CONTRARY
If the aforesaid proposition were true, you would not
be able to cause the sound of the bell to cease abruptly
by touching it with the palm of the hand, especially at
the beginning of its strength, for surely if it were touched
it would not happen that as you touched the bell with the
hand the ear would simultaneously withhold the sound ;
whereas we see that if after the stroke has taken place
the hand is placed upon the thing which is struck the
sound suddenly ceases. (C. Ji. 332 v. a.)
OF THE FLIGHT OF BIRDS 141
I have divided the 'Treatise on <Birds into four books :
of which the first treats of their flight by beating their
wings ; the second of flight without beating the wings
and with the help of the wind ; the third of flight in
general, such as that of birds, bats, fishes, animals,
and insects ; the last of the mechanism of this movement.
The bird in its flight without the help of the wind
drops half the wing downwards, and thrusts the other
half towards the tip backwards ; and the part which is
moved down prevents the descent of the bird, and that
which goes backwards drives the bird forward.
When the bird raises its wings it brings their ex-
tremities near together ; and while lowering them it
spreads them further apart during the first half of the
movement, but after this middle stage as they continue
to descend it brings them together again. (K 12 v.)
When the bird lowers one of its wings necessity
constrains it instantly to extend it, for if it did not do
so it would turn right over.
The bird when it wishes to turn does not beat its
wings with equal movement, but moves the one which
makes the convex of the circle it describes, more than
that which makes the concave of the circle. (K 4 &.)
The bird beats its wings repeatedly on one side only
when it wishes to turn round while one wing is held
stationary; and this it does by taking a stroke with the
wing in the direction of the tail, like a man rowing in
i 4 2 OF THE FLIGHT OF BIRDS
a boat with two oars, who takes many strokes on that
side from which he wishes to escape, and keeps the other
oar fixed. (K 7 r.)
Unless the movement of the wing which presses the
air is swifter than the flight of the air when pressed,
the air will not become condensed beneath the wing, and
in consequence the bird will not support itself above
the air.
That part of the air which is nearest to the wing
will most resemble in its movement the movement of
the wing which presses on it ; and that part will be more
stable which is further removed from the said wing.
That part of the air which is the nearest to the wing
which presses on it, will have the greatest density.
The air has greater density when it is nearer to water,
and [greater rarity] when it is nearer to the cold region,
and midway between these it is purer.
The air of the cold region offers no resistance to the
movement of the birds unless they have already passed
through a considerable space of the air beneath them.
The extremities of the wings of birds are of necessity
flexible.
The properties of the air are such that it may become
condensed or rarefied. (C. A. 161 r. a.)
The birds which seek to penetrate within the approach-
ing wind are in the habit of fluttering to the right and
to the left, like sailors tacking against the direction of the
winds ; and this they do in order not to make a long
descent, for if the bird did not guard against descending
OF THE FLIGHT OF BIRDS 143
for any great distance, it would be driven right against
the current of the wind ; and, entering under the wind
slanting lengthwise, it will present so much of its weight
by this line as to subdue the resistance of the wind.
(K 8 v.)
The opening and lowering of the tail and the spread-
ing out of the wings at the same time to their full
extent, arrests the swift movement of birds.
When birds in descending are near to the ground,
and the head is below the tail, they then lower the tail,
which is spread wide open, and take short strokes with
the wings ; and consequently the head becomes higher
than the tail, and the speed is checked to such an extent
that the bird alights on the ground without any shock.
In all the changes which birds make in their lines of
movement they spread out their tails.
There are many birds which move their wings as
swiftly when they raise them as when they let them fall :
such as magpies and birds like these. (L 58 *.)
There are some birds which are in the habit of moving
their wings more swiftly when they lower them than when
they raise them, and this is seen to be the case with
doves and such like birds. .
There are others which lower their wings more slowly
than they raise them, and this seen with rooks and other
birds like these.
The birds which fly swiftly, keeping at the same distance
above the ground, are in the habit of beating their wings
downwards and behind them, downwards to the extent
i 44 OF THE FLIGHT OF BIRDS
necessary to prevent the bird from descending, and
behind when they wish to advance with greater speed.
The speed of birds is checked by the opening and
spreading out of the tail. (L 59 */.)
ii
The imperceptible fluttering of the wings without any
actual strokes keeps the bird poised and motionless amid
the moving air.
The reverse movement against the direction of the
wind will always be greater than the advancing move-
ment ; and the reverse movement when made with the
course of the wind will be increased by the wind, and
will become equal to the advancing movement.
The ways in which birds rise, without beating their
wings but by circles, with the help of the wind, are of two
kinds, simple and complex. The simple comprise those
in which, in their advancing movement, they travel above
the flight of the wind, and at the end of it turn and face the
direction of the wind, receiving its buffeting from beneath,
and so finish the reverse movement against the wind.
The complex movement by which birds rise is also
circular, and consists of an advancing and reverse move-
ment against the direction of the wind in a course which
takes the form of a half circle, and of an advancing and
reverse movement which follows the course of the wind.
The simple circular movement of rising without beat-
ing the wings will always occur when there is great
agitation of the winds, and this being the case, it follows
that the bird in so rising is also carried a considerable
OF THE FLIGHT OF BIRDS 145
distance by the force of the wind. And the complex
movement will be found to occur when there are light
winds, for experience shows that in these complex
movements the bird rises through the air without being
carried too far by the wind in the direction in which it is
travelling.
The down and feathers underneath the wings are
plentiful, and at the ends of the wings and tail the tips of
the feathers are flexible or capable of being bent, whilst
those on the front of the wing, where it strikes the air,
are firm. (C. A. 508 r. .)
My opponent says that he cannot deny that the bird
cannot fall either backwards or with head underneath
in a perpendicular line ; but that it seems to him that its
descent may be sheer if it keeps the wings wide open and
has one of the wings as well as the head below its centre
of gravity. 1 To this argument the answer is the same as
to what preceded it ; that is, that if this bird being in ?uch
a position without having other means of aiding itself
were to drop perpendicularly, it would be contrary to
the fourth part of the second book of the Elements,
where it was proved that every body which falls freely
through the air will fall in such a way that the heaviest
part of it will become the guide of its movement ; and
here the heaviest part is found to be midway between
the extremities of the open wings, that is midway between
the two lightest parts, and therefore, as has been proved,
such a descent is impossible.
1 The MS. has here an explanation of a diagram : * that is, it will drop in
the line a b, the wings d c being wide apart at their natural extension.'
K
146 OF THE FLIGHT OF BIRDS
We have therefore proved that when a bird has its
wings spread out and its head somewhat raised, it is
impossible for it ever to fall or descend in a perpen-
dicular line ; on the contrary, it will always descend by
a slanting line, and every tiny movement of wings or
tail changes the direction and slanting descent of this
line to the reflex movement
Nature has so provided that all the large birds can
stay at so great an elevation that the wind which
increases their flight may be of straight course and
powerful. For if their flight were low, among moun-
tains where the wind goes wandering and is perpetually
full of eddies and whirlwinds, and where they cannot
find any spot of shelter by reason of the fury of the icy
blasts among the narrow defiles of the mountains, nor
can so guide themselves with their great wings as to
avoid being dashed upon the cliffs and the high rocks
and trees, would not this sometimes prove to be the cause
of their destruction ? Whereas at great altitudes when-
ever through some accident the course of the wind is
changed in any way whatsoever the bird has always time
to redirect its course, and in safety take a calm flight,
which will always be entirely free ; and it can always
pass above clouds and thereby avoid wetting its wings.
Inasmuch as all beginnings of things are often the
cause of great results, so we may see a small almost
imperceptible movement of the rudder to have power
to turn a ship of marvellous size and loaded with a very
heavy cargo, and that, too, amid such a weight of water
as presses on its every beam, and in the teeth of the
OF THE FLIGHT OF BIRDS 147
impetuous winds which are enveloping its mighty sails.
Therefore we may be certain in the case of those birds
which can support themselves above the course of the
winds without beating their wings, that a slight move-
ment of wing or tail, which will serve them to enter
either below or above the wind, will suffice to prevent
the fall of the said birds. (C. A. 308 v. )
The helms which are on the shoulders of the wings are
necessary when the bird in its flight without beating its
wings wishes to maintain itself in. part of a tract of air,
upon which it is either slipping down or rising, and
when it wishes to bend either upwards or downwards
or to right or left. It then uses these helms in this
manner : if the bird wishes to rise it spreads the helm
in the opposite direction to the way the wind strikes it ;
and if to descend it spreads the top part of the helm
slanting to the course of the wind. If it turns to the
right it spreads the right helm to the wind, and if it
turns to the left it spreads the left helm to the wind.
When the bird rises up by the assistance of the wind
without beating its wings, it spreads out and raises its
wings so that they form an arch with the concave side
towards the sky, and it receives the wind under its wings
continually, in its movement to and fro, and this would
cause it to turn right over, if it were not that the point
of its tail is turned to the wind as it enters beneath the
wind ; and this afterwards by its power of resistance acts
to prevent the said movement of turning over, because
the wings are restrained by the tail in such a way that
I4 8 OF THE FLIGHT OF BIRDS
their various parts are of equal power, and so the tail
becomes partly lowered and the bird is raised forward
slightly. (K 10 v.)
When the kite rises or sinks without beating its wings,
it holds them slanting, and keeps the tail slanting in
the same way but not to the same extent, for if this
were so the bird would fall to the ground by the line
of the slant of the wings and of the tail ; but as this
tail is away from the centre of the bird's length it meets
with somewhat more resistance than the wings, and this
in consequence checks its movement, and so the tail
has less movement than the wings. Necessity causes
the bird to move with a circular motion, and as the tail
is less slanting, so in proportion the circles are less in
diameter, and so also conversely. (K 60 [u] r. 59 [ro] *.)
When the bird is carried along by the wind and
wishes to turn quickly towards it, it will then enter
beneath the wind with the wing turned towards it ; and
then with the feathers of the tail turned towards the
wind, it will enter upon it, and so by the help of the
wind striking upon its tail it turns much more rapidly.
If one of the wings is lowered rapidly and then folded
the bird drops a little on that side ; and if it is lowered
rapidly and extended the bird drops on the opposite
side ; and if it is lowered slowly and extended the bird
moves in a circle round this ,wing, falling as it proceeds ;
and if it is lowered slowly and with hesitation, and
folded up 3 then the bird descends in curves on that side*
OF THE FLIGHT OF BIRDS 149
All birds driven by the water or by the wind keep
their heads in the direction from whence the water or
the wind are coming. Ther do this in order to prevent
the wind or the water penetrating up from the extremities
to the roots of the feathers, so that each of the feathers
may be pressed against another, and thus they may
remain drier and warmer. ( 3 .)
The bird rises to a height in a straight line without
beating its wings when the reflex current of the wind
strikes it from underneath, (K 3 r.)
in
When the kite in descending turns itself right over
and pierces the air head downwards, it is forced to bend
the tail as far as it can in the opposite direction to that
which it desires to follow ; and then again bending the
tail swiftly, according to the direction in which it wishes
to turn, the change in the bird's course corresponds to
the turn of the tail, like the rudder of a ship which
when turned turns the ship, but in the opposite direc-
tion.
When the wind is about to throw the bird backwards
then the bird draws together the shoulders of its wings,
so that its weight is massed more to the front than it was
at first, and consequently the part that is heaviest is first
in its descent, while in addition the tail is spread out
and bent down. (L 6z r.}
The kite and the other birds which move their wings
only a little way, go in search of the current of the
j jo OF THE FLIGHT OF BIRDS
wind ; and when the wind is blowing at a height they
may be seen at a great elevation^ but if it is blowing low
down then they remain low.
When there is no wind stirring in the air then the
kite beats its wings more rapidly in its flight, in such a
way that it rises to a height and acquires an impetus ;
with which impetus, dropping then very gradually, it can
travel for a great distance without moving its wings.
And when it has descended it does the saro, over
again, and so continues for many times in succession.
This method of descending without moving the wings
serves it as a means of resting in the air after the fatigue
of the above mentioned beating of the wings.
All the birds which fly in spurts rise to a height by
beating their wings ; and during their descent they
proceed to rest themselves, for while descending they do
not beat their wings. (Sul 7 oh degli UcceUi
The swallow has its wings quite different from those of
the kite, for it is very narrow in the shoulder and long
in the span of the wing. Its stroke when it flies is made
up of two distinct actions, that is the span of the wing is
spread out like an oar in the direction of the tail, the
shoulder towards the earth ; and in this way while the
one movement impels it forward, the other keeps it at
its height, and the two combined carry it a stage
onwards wherever it pleases. (C. A. 369 r. a.)
The thrushes and other small birds are able to make
headway against the course of the wind, because they
fly in spurts; that is they take a long course below
OF ARTIFICIAL FLIGHT 151
the wind, by dropping in a slanting direction towards
the ground, with their wings half closed, and they then
open the wings and catch the wind in them with their
reverse movement, and so rise to a height ; and then
they drop again in the same way. (c. A. 313 r. I.}
Remember that your bird should have no other
model than the bat, because its membranes serve as an
armour or rather as a means of binding together the
pieces of its armour, that is the framework of the wings.
And if you take as your pattern the wings of feathered
birds, these are more powerful in structure of bone and
sinew because they are penetrable, that is to say the
feathers are separated from one another and the air
passes through them. But the bat is aided by its
membrane which binds the whole together and is not
penetrated by the air. (Sv! Polo degli Uccdli, 16 [15] r.)
OF THE BIRD'S MOVEMENT
Of whether birds when continually descending
without beating their wings will proceed a greater dis-
tance in one sustained curve, or by frequently making
some reflex movement ; and whether when they wish to
pass in flight from one spot to another they will go more
quickly by making impetuous, headlong movements, and
then rising up with reflex movement and again making a
fresh descent, and so continuing. 1 o speak of this sub-
ject you must needs in the first book explain the nature
of the resistance of the air, in the second the anatomy
of the bird and of its wings, in the third the method
of working of the wings in their various movements,
i 5 2 OF ARTIFICIAL FLIGHT
in the fourth the power of the wings and of the tail,
at such time as the wings are not being moved and
the wind is favourable, to serve as a guide in different
movements*
Dissect the bat, study it carefully, and on this model
construct the machine.
IV
A bird is an instrument working according to mathe-
matical law, which instrument it is within the capacity
of man to reproduce with all its movements, but not
with a corresponding degree of strength, though it is
deficient only in the power of maintaining equilibrium.
We may therefore say that such an instrument con-
structed by man is lacking in nothing except the life
of the bird, and this life must needs be supplied from
that of man.
The life which resides in the bird's members will
without doubt better conform to their needs than will
that of man which is separated from them, and especially
in the almost imperceptible movements which preserve
equilibrium. But since we see that the bird is equipped
for many obvious varieties of movements, we are able
from this experience to deduce that the most rudimen-
tary of these movements will be capable of being
comprehended by man's understanding ; and that he
will to a great extent be able to provide against the
destruction of that instrument of which he has himself
become the living principle and the propeller.
(C. A, 161 r. *.)
OF ARTIFICIAL FLIGHT 153
There is as much pressure exerted by a substance
against the air as by the air against the substance.
Observe how the beating of its wings against the air
suffices to bear up the weight of the eagle in the highly
rarefied air which borders on the fiery element! Ob-
serve also how the air moving over the sea, beaten back
by the bellying sails, causes the heavily laden ship to
glide onwards! So that by adducing and expounding
the reasons of these things you may be able to realise
that man when he has great wings attached to him, by
exerting his strength against the resistance of the air
and conquering it, is enabled to subdue it and to raise
himself upon it. (C. A. 381 v. a.)
Suppose that here there is a body suspended, which
resembles that of a bird, and that its tail is twisted to
an angle of various different degrees ; you will be able
by means of this to deduce a general rule as to the
various twists and turns in the movements of birds
occasioned by the bending of their tails.
In all the varieties of movements the heaviest part of
the thing which moves becomes the guide of the move-
ment. (L 6 1 P.)
The bird I have described ought to be able by the
help of the wind to rise to a great height, and this will
prove to be its safety ; since even if all the above-men-
tioned revolutions were to befall it, it would still have
time to regain a condition of equilibrium ; provided
that its various parts have a great power of resistance,
so that they can safely withstand the fury and violence
of the descent, by the aid of the defences which I have
154 OF ARTIFICIAL FLIGHT
mentioned ; and its joints should be made of strong
tanned hide, and sewn with cords of very strong raw
silk. And let no one encumber himself with iron bands,
for these are very soon broken at the joints or else they
become worn out, and consequently it is well not to
encumber one's self with them.
(Sul Poto degli Uccclli, 8 [7] r.)
AN ARGUMENT TO DISPOSE OF THE OBJECTIONS
TO THE ATTEMPT
You will perhaps say that the sinews and muscles of
a bird are incomparably more powerful than those of
man, because all the girth of so many muscles and of
the fleshy parts of the breast goes to aid and increase
the movement of the wings, while the bone in the breast
is all in one piece and consequently affords the bird very
great power, the wings also being all covered with a
network of thick sinews and other very strong ligaments
of gristle, and the skin being very thick with various
muscles. But the reply to this is that such great strength
gives it a reserve of power beyond what it ordinarily uses
to support itself on its wings, since it is necessary for
it whenever it may so desire either to double or treble
its rate of speed in order to escape from its pursuer
or to follow its prey. Consequently in such a case it
becomes necessary for it to put forth double or treble
the amount of effort, and in addition to this to carry
through the air in its talons a weight corresponding to
its own weight. So one sees a falcon carrying a duck
and an eagle carrying a hare ; which circumstance shows
clearly enough where the excess of strength is spent ; for
OF ARTIFICIAL FLIGHT 155
they need but little force in order to sustain themselves,
and to balance themselves on their wings, and flap them in
the pathway of the wind and so direct the course of their
journeyings ; and a slight movement of the wings is
sufficient for this, and the movement will be slower in
proportion as the bird is greater in size.
Man is also possessed of a greater amount of strength
in his legs than is required by his weight. And in order
to show the truth of this, place a man to stand upon
the sea-shore, and observe how far the marks of his feet
sink in ; and then set another man on his back, and you
will see how much deeper the marks of his feet will be.
Then take away the man from his back, and set him to
jump straight up as high as he can ; you will then find
that the marks of his feet make a deeper impression
where he has jumped than where he has had the other
man on his back. This affords us a double proof that
man is possessed of more than twice the amount of
strength that is required to enable him to support himself.
(Sul Polo degli Ucctlli 17 [l 6] r.)
BOOK III
ART
I. PAINTING, POETRY, AND SCULPTURE
HOW PAINTING SURPASSES ALL HUMAN WORKS BY REASON
OF THE SUBTLE POSSIBILITIES WHICH IT CONTAINS
THE eye, which is called the window of the soul, is the
chief means whereby the understanding may most fully
and abundantly appreciate the infinite works of nature ;
and the ear is the second inasmuch as it acquires its
importance from the fact that it hears the things
which the eye has seen. If you historians, or poets,
or mathematicians had never seen things with your
eyes you would be ill able to describe them in your
writings. And if you, O poet, represent a story by
depicting it with your pen, the painter with his brush
will so render it as to be more easily satisfying and less
tedious to understand. If you call painting c dumb
poetry/ then the painter may say of the poet that his
art is * blind painting/ Consider then which is the more
grievous affliction, to be blind or be dumb ! I Although
the poet has as wide a choice of subjects as the painter,
his creations fail to afford as much satisfaction to man-
kind as do paintings, for while poetry attempts with
words to represent forms, actions, and scenes, the painter
156
OF PAINTING AND POETRY 157
employs the exact images of the forms in order to re-
produce these forms. Consider, then, which is more
fundamental to man, the name of man or his image :
The name changes with change of country ; the form
is unchanged except by death.
And if the poet selves the understanding by way of
the ear, the painter does so by the eye which is the nobler
sense. I will only cite as an instance of this how if a
good painter represents the fury of a battle and a poet
also describes one, and the two descriptions are shown
together to the public, you will soon see which will
draw most of the spectators, and where there will be
most discussion, to which most praise will be given and
which will satisfy the more. There is no doubt that the
painting which is by far the more useful and beautiful
will give the greater pleasure. Inscribe in any place the
name of God and set opposite to it his image, you will
see which will be held in greater reverence !
Since painting embraces within itself all the forms of
nature you have nothing omitted except the names, and
these are not universal like the forms, If you have the
results of her processes we have the processes of her
results.
Take the case of a poet describing the beauties of a
lady to her lover and that of a painter who makes a
portrait of her ; you will see whither nature will the
more incline the enamoured judge. Surely the proof of
the matter ought to rest upon the verdict of experience !
You have set painting among the mechanical arts!
Truly were painters as ready equipped as you are to
praise their own works in writing I doubt whether it would
158 OF PAINTING AND POETRY
endure the reproach of so vile a name. If you call it
mechanical because it is by manual work that the hands
represent what the imagination creates, your writers are
setting down with the pen by manual work what origi-
nates in the mind. If you call it mechanical because it
is done for money, who fall into this error if indeed
it can be called an error more than you yourselves ?
If you lecture for the Schools do you not go to whoever
pays you the most ? Do you do any work without
some reward? And yet I do not say this in order to
censure such opinions, for every labour looks for its
reward. And if the poet should say, ' I will create a
fiction which shall express great things,' so likewise will
the painter also, for even so Apelles made the Calumny.
If you should say that poetry is the more enduring,
to this I would reply that the works of a coppersmith
are more enduring still, since time preserves them longer
than either your works or ours ; nevertheless they show
but little imagination ; and painting if it be done upon
copper in enamel colours can be made far more en-
during.
In Art we may be said to be grandsons unto God.
If poetry treats of moral philosophy, painting has to do
with natural philosophy ; if the one describes the work-
ings of the mind, the other considers what the mind
effects by movements of the body ; if the one dismays
folk by hellish fictions, the other does the like by show-
ing the same things in action. Suppose the poet sets
himself to represent some image of beauty or terror,
something vile and foul, or some monstrous thing, in
contest with the painter, and suppose in his own way
OF PAINTING AND POETRY 159
he makes a change of forms at his pleasure, will not the
painter still satisfy the more ? Have we not seen pic-
tures which bear so close a resemblance to the actual
thing that they have deceived both men and beasts ?
If you know how to describe and write down the
appearance of the forms, the painter can make them so
that they appear enlivened with lights and shadows
which create the very expression of the faces; herein
you cannot attain with the pen where he attains with
the brush* (ib. Nat. MS. 2038, 19 r. and y., 20 r.
So soon as the poet ceases to represent in words what
exists in nature, then the poet ceases to be like the
painter ; for if the poet were to leave such representa-
tion and describe the polished and persuasive words of
him whom he wishes to represent speaking, then he
becomes an orator and is no longer a poet or a painter ;
and if he speaks of the heavens he becomes an astrologer ;
and a philosopher and theologian when discoursing of the
works of nature or of God, But if he confines himself
to the representation of specific objects he' will vie with
the painter only if by his words he can satisfy the eye to
the same extent as he does.
{Windsor MSS. Notes et desrins sur la Generation [Roureyre], I r.),
HOW HE WHO DESPISES PAINTING HAS NO LOVE FOR
THE PHILOSOPHY IN NATURE
If you despise painting, which is the sole imitator of
all the visible works of nature, it is certain that you will
be despising a subtle invention which with philosophical
and ingenious speculation takes as its theme all the various
z6o OF PAINTING AND SCULPTURE
kinds of forms, airs, and scenes, plants, animals, grasses
and flowers, which are surrounded by light and shade.
And this truly is a science and the true-born daughter of
nature, since painting is the offspring of nature. But in
order to speak more correctly we may call it the grand-
child of nature ; for all visible things derive their exist-
ence from nature, and from these same things is born
painting. So therefore we may justly speak of it as
the grandchild of nature and as related to God Him-
self. (MS. 2038 Bib. Nat. 20 r.)
THAT SCULPTURE IS LESS INTELLECTUAL THAN PAINT-
IMG, AND LACKS MANY OF ITS NATURAL PARTS
As practising myself the art of sculpture no less than
that of painting, and doing both the one and the other
in the same degree, it seems to me that without suspicion
of unfairness I may venture to give an opinion as to
which of the two is the more intellectual, and of the
greater difficulty and perfection. In the first place
sculpture is dependent on certain lights, namely those
from above, while a picture carries everywhere with it
its own light and shade ; light and shade therefore are
essential to sculpture. In this respect the sculptor is
aided by the nature of the relief which produces these of
its own accord, but the painter artificially creates them
by his art in places where nature would normally do the
like. The sculptor cannot render the difference in the
varying natures of the colours of objects ; painting does
not fail to do so in any particular. The lines of perspec-
tive of sculptors do not seem in any way true ; those of
painters may appear to extend a hundred miles beyond
OF PAINTING AND SCULPTURE 161
the work itself. The effects of aerial perspective are
outside the scope of their work ; they can neither repre-
sent transparent bodies nor luminous bodies nor angles
of reflection nor shining bodies such as mirrors and like
things of glittering surface, nor mists, nor dull weather,
nor an infinite number of things which I forbear to
mention lest they should prove wearisome.
The one advantage which it has is that of offering
greater resistance to time; yet painting offers a like
resistance if it is done upon thick copper covered with
white enamel and then painted upon with enamel colours
and placed in a fire and fused. In degree of permanence
it then surpasses even sculpture. I
It may be urged that if a mistake is made it is not
easy to set it right, but it is a poor line of argument to
attempt to prove that the fact of a mistake being ir-
remediable makes the work more noble. I should say
indeed that it is more difficult to correct the mind of the
master who makes such mistakes than the work which
he has spoiled* We know very well that a good
experienced painter will not make such mistakes ; on the
contrary following sound rules he will proceed by
removing so little at a time that his work will progress
well. The sculptor also if he is working in clay or wax
can either take away from it or add to it, and when the
model is completed it is easy to cast it in bronze ; and
this is the last process and it is the most enduring form
of sculpture, since that which is only in marble is liable
to be destroyed, but not when done in bronze.
But painting done upon copper, which by the methods
in use in painting may be either taken from or altered,
L
X 6a OF SCULPTURE
is like the bronze, for when you have first made the
model for this in wax it can still be either reduced or
altered. While the sculpture in bronze is imperish-
able, this painting upon copper and enamel is absolutely
eternal ; and while bronze remains dark and rough, this
is full of an infinite variety of varied and lovely colours,
of which I have already made mention. But if you
would have me speak only of panel painting I am
content to give an opinion between it and sculpture by
saying that painting is more beautiful, more imaginative,
and richer in resource, while sculpture is more enduring,
but excels in nothing else. Sculpture reveals what it is
with little effort ; painting seems a thing miraculous,
making things intangible appear tangible, presenting in
relief things which are flat, in distance things near at
hand. In fact painting is adorned with infinite possi-
bilities of which sculpture can make no use.
(MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 25 r. and 24 v.)
The sculptor cannot represent transparent or luminous
things. (C. A. 215 v. <)
OF STATUES ,
If you wish to make a figure of marble make first one
of clay, and after you have finished it and let it dry, set
it in a case, which should be sufficiently large that after
the figure has been taken- out it can hold the block of
marble wherein you purpose to lay bare a figure re-
sembling that in clay. Then after you have placed the
clay figure inside this case make pegs so that they fit
exactly into holes in the case, and drive them in at each
hole until each Fhitg peg touches the figure at a different
PLATE r
GENISTA TINCTORIA
(Dyer? Gretmvtetf]
Facep. 163
QIJERCUS ROBUR PEDUNCULATA
(Stalked Oak]
THE MIND OF THE PAINTER 163
spot ; stain black such parts of the pegs as project out
of the case, and make a distinguishing mark for each peg
and for its hole so that you may fit them together at
your ease. Then take the clay model out of the case
and place the block of marble in it, and take away from
the marble sufficient for all the pegs to be hidden in the
holes up to their marks, and in order to be able to do
this better make the case so that the whole of it can be
lifted up and the bottom may still remain under the
marble ; and by this means you will be able to use the
cutting tools with great readiness. (A 43 r.)
II. THE PRECEPTS OF THE PAINTER
PAINTING
The mind of the painter should be like a mirror
which always takes the colour of the thing that it reflects
and which is filled by as many images as there are things
placed before it. Knowing therefore that you cannot
be a good master unless you have' a universal power of
representing by your art all the varieties of the forms
which nature produces, which indeed you will not know
how to do unless you see them and retain them in your
mind, look to it, O Painter, that' when you go into the
fields you give your attention to the various objects and
look carefully in turn first at one thing and then at an-
other, making a bundle of different things selected and
chosen from- among those of less value. And do not
after the manner of some painters who when tired by
imaginative work, lay aside their task and take exercise
by walking in order to find relaxation, keeping, however,
such weariness of mind as prevents them either seeing or
164 OF THE PROGRESS OF PAINTING
being conscious of different objects ; so that often when
meeting friends or relatives, and being saluted by them,
although they may see and hear them they know them
no more than if they had met only so much air.
(MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. ^ r.)
HOW FROM AGE TO AGE THE ART OF PAINTING CON-
TINUALLY DECLINES AND DETERIORATES WHEN
PAINTERS HAVE NO OTHER STANDARD THAN
WORK ALREADY DONE
The painter will produce pictures of little merit if he
takes the works of others as his standard ; but if he will
apply himself to learn from the objects of nature he will
produce good results. This we see was the case with the
painters who came after the time of the Romans, for
they continually imitated each other, and from age to age
their art steadily declined.
After these came Giotto the Florentine, and he,
reared in mountain solitudes, inhabited only by goats
and such like beasts turning straight from nature to
his art, began to draw on the rocks the movements of
the goats which he was tending, and so began to draw
the figures of all the animals which were to be found in
the country, in such a way that after much study he not
only surpassed the masters of his own time but all those
of many preceding centuries. After him art again
declined, because all were imitating paintings already
done ; and so for centuries it continued to decline until
such time as Tommaso the Florentine, nicknamed
Masaccio, showed by the perfection of his work how
those who took as their standard anything other than
THE LIFE OF THE PAINTER 165
nature, the supreme guide of all the masters, were
wearying themselves in vain* Similarly I would say as
to these mathematical subjects, that those who study only
the authorities and not the works of nature are in art
the grandsons and not the sons of nature, which is the
supreme guide of the good authorities.
Mark the supreme folly of those who censure such as
learn from nature, leaving uncensured the authorities who
were the disciples of this same nature ! (C. A. 141 r. .)
THE LIFE OF THE PAINTER IN THE COUNTRY
The painter requires such knowledge of mathematics
as belongs to painting, and severance from companions
who are not in sympathy with his studies, and his brain
should have the power of adapting itself to the tenor of
the objects which present themselves before it, and he
should be freed from all other cares.
And if while considering and examining one subject a
second should intervene, as happens when an object
occupies the mind, he ought to decide which of these
subjects presents greater difficulties in investigation, and
follow that until it becomes entirely clear, and afterwards
pursue the investigation of the other. And above all he
should keep his mind as clear as the surface of a mirror,
which becomes changed to as many different colours as
are those of the objects within it, and his companions
should resemble him in a taste for these studies, and if
he fail to find any such he should accustom himself to
be alone in his investigations, for in the end he will find
no more profitable companionship. (C. A. 184 v. r.)
i66 THE LIFE OF THE PAINTER
OF THE LIFE OF THE PAINTER IN HIS STUDIO.
The painter or draughtsman ought to be solitary in
order that the well-being of the body may not sap the
vigour of the mind, and more especially when he is
occupied with the consideration and investigation of
things which by being continually present before his
eyes furnish food to be treasured up in the memory.
If you are alone you belong entirely to yourself ; if you
are accompanied even by one companion you belong only
half to yourself, or even less in proportion to the thought-
lessness of his conduct ; and if you have more than one
companion you will fall more deeply into the same plight.
If you should say, * I will take my own course ; I will
retire apart, so that I may be the better able to investigate
the forms of natural objects,' then I say this must needs
turn out badly, for you will not be able to prevent your-
self from often lending an ear to their chatter ; and not
being able to serve two masters, you will discharge
badly the duty of companionship and even worse that
of endeavouring to realise your conceptions in art.
But suppose you say, C I will withdraw so far apart
that their words shall not reach me nor in any way dis-
turb me,' I reply that in this case you will be looked
upon as mad, and bear in mind that in so doing you
will then be solitary.
If you must have companionship choose it from your
studio ; it may then help you to obtain the advantages
which result from different methods of study. All
other companionship may prove extremely harmful.
(MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 27 v. and r.)
THE PROVINCE OF THE PAINTER 167
HOW THE PAINTER IS NOT WORTHY OF PRAISE
UNLESS HE IS UNIVERSAL
We may frankly admit that certain people deceive
themselves who apply the title *a good master' to a
painter who can only do the head or the figure well.
Surely it is no great achievement if by studying one
thing only during his whole lifetime he attain to some
degree of excellence therein ! But since, as we know,
painting embraces and contains within itself all the things
which nature produces or which result from the fortui-
tous actions of men, and in short whatever can be com-
prehended by the eyes, it would seem to me that he is
but a poor master who only makes a single figure well.
For do you not see how many and how varied are the
actions which are performed by men alone? Do you
not see how many different kinds of animals there are,
and also of trees and plants and flowers ? What variety
of hilly and level places, of springs, rivers, cities, public
and private buildings ; of instruments fitted for man's
use ; of divers costumes, ornaments, and arts ?
Things which should be rendered with equal facility
and grace by whoever you wish to call a good painter.
(MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 25 *.)
HOW THE MIRROR IS THE MASTER OF PAINTERS
When you wish to see whether the general effect of
your picture corresponds with that of the object repre-
sented after nature, take a mirror and set it so that it
reflects the actual thing, and then compare the reflec-
tion with your picture, and consider carefully whether
168 THE MIRROR A TEST OF PAINTING
the subject of the two images is in conformity with both,
studying especially the mirror. The mirror ought to
be taken as a guide, that is the flat mirror for within
its surface substances have many points of resemblance
to a picture; namely that you see the picture made
upon one plane showing things which appear in relief,
and the mirror upon one plane does the same. The
picture is one single surface, and the mirror is the same.
The picture is intangible, inasmuch as what appears
round and detached cannot be enclosed within the hands,
and the mirror is the same. The mirror and the pic-
ture present the images of things surrounded by shadow
and light, and each alike seems to project considerably
from the plane of its surface. And since you know
that the mirror presents detached things to you by
means of outlines and shadows and lights, and since
you have moreover amongst your colours more power-
ful shadows and lights than those of the mirror, it is
certain that if you but know well how to compose y<pur
picture it will also seem a natural thing seen in a great
mirror. (MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 24 /.)
Painters oftentimes deceive themselves by representing
water in which they render visible what is seen by
man ; whereas the water sees the object from one side
and the man sees it from the other ; and it frequently
happens that the painter will see a thing from above
and the water sees it from beneath, and so the same
body is seen in front and behind, and above and below,
for the water reflects the image of the object in one
way and the eye sees it in another. (c. A. 354 v. a.)
DIRECTIONS FOR STUDY 169
OF JUDGING YOUR OWN PICTURE
We know well that mistakes are more easily detected
in the works of others than in one's own, and that often-
times while censuring the small faults of others you will
overlook your own great faults. In order to avoid
such ignorance make yourself first of all a master of
perspective, then gain a complete knowledge of the pro-
portions of man and other animals, and also make
yourself a good architect, that is in so far as concerns
the form of the buildings and of the other things which
are upon the earth, which are infinite in form ; and the
more knowledge you have of these the more will your
work be worthy of praise ; and for those things in which
you have no practice do not disdain to draw from nature.
But to return to what has been promised above, I say
that when you are painting you should take a flat mirror
and often look at your work within it, and it will then
be seen in reverse, and will appear to be by the hand of
some other master, and you will be better able to judge
of its faults than in any other way. It is also a good
plan every now and then to go away and have a little
relaxation ; for then when you come back to the work
your judgment will be surer, since to remain constantly
at work will cause you to lose the power of judgment.
It is also advisable to go some distance away, because
then the work appears smaller, and more of it is taken
in at a glance, and a lack of harmony or proportion in
the various parts and in the colours of the objects is
more readily seen. (MS. 2038, Bit. Nat. z8 r.)
i7o THE PROVINCE OF THE PAINTER
OF VARIETY IN FIGURES
The painter ought to strive at being universal, for
there is a great lack of dignity in doing one thing
well and another badly, like many who study only the
measurements and proportions of the nude figure and
do not seek after its variety ; for a man may be properly
proportioned and yet be fat and short or long and thin,
or medium. And whoever does not take count of these
varieties will always make his figures in one mould so
that they will all appear sisters, and this practice deserves
severe censure.
OF THE ORDER OF ACQUIRING THIS UNIVERSALITY
It is an easy matter for whoever knows how to re-
present man to afterwards acquire this universality, for
all the animals which live upon the earth resemble each
other in their limbs, that is in muscles, sinews, and
bones, and they do not vary at all, except in length
or thickness as will be shown in the Anatomy. There
are also the aquatic animals, of which there are many
different kinds ; and with regard to these I do not advise
the painter to make a fixed standard> for they are of
almost infinite variety ; and the same is also true of
the insect world. (G 5 v.)
HOW THE PAINTER OUGHT TO BE DESIROUS OF HEAR-
ING EVERY MAN'S OPINION AS TO THE PROGRESS
OF HIS WORK
Surely when a man is painting a picture he ought not
to feftise to hear any man's opinion, for we know very
OF CRITICISM 171
well that though a man may not be a painter, he has
a true conception of the form of another man and will
judge aright whether he is hump-backed or has one
shoulder high or low, or whether he has a large mouth
or nose or other defects.
Since then we recognise that men are able to form a
true judgment as to the works of nature, how much the
more does it behove us to admit that they are able to
judge our faults. For you know how much a man is
deceived in his own works, and if you do not recognise
this in your own case observe it in others and then you
will profit by their mistakes. Therefore you should be
desirous of hearing patiently the opinions of others, and
consider and reflect carefully whether or no he who
censures you has reason for his censure ; and correct
your work if you find that he is right, but if not, then
let it seem that you have not understood him, or in
case he is a man whom you esteem show him by
argument why it is that he is mistaken.
(MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 26 r.)
HOW IN WORKS OF IMPORTANCE A MAN SHOULD NOT
TRUST SO ENTIRELY TO HIS MEMORY AS TO DISDAIN
TO DRAW FROM NATURE
Any master who let it be understood that he could
himself recall all the forms and effects of nature would
certainly appear to me to be endowed with great
ignorance, considering that these effects are infinite and
that our memory is not of so great capacity as to suffice
thereto. Do you therefore, O Painter, take care lest the
172 OF METHODS OF STUDY
greed for gain prove a stronger incentive than renown
in art, for to gain this renown is a far greater thing than
is the renown of riches. For these, then, and other
reasons which might be given, you should apply yourself
first of all to drawing in order to present to the eye in
visible form the purpose and invention created originally
in your imagination ; then proceed to take from or add
to it until you satisfy yourself; then have men arranged
as models draped or nude in the way in which you have
disposed them in your work ; and make the proportions
and size in accordance with perspective, so that no part
of the work remains that is not so counselled by reason
and by the effects in nature. And this will be the way
to make yourself renowned in your art.
(MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 26 r.)
OF STUDYING AS SOON AS YOU ARE AWAKE OR BEFORE
YOU GO TO SLEEP IN BED IN THE DARK
I have proved in my own case that it is of no small
benefit on finding oneself in bed in the dark to go
over again in the imagination the main outlines of the
forms previously studied, or of other noteworthy things
conceived by ingenious speculation ; and this exercise is
entirely to be commended, and it is useful in fixing
things in the memory. (MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 26 r.)
A WAY TO STIMULATE AND AROUSE THE MIND TO
VARIOUS INVENTIONS
I will not refrain from setting among these precepts
OF DEVICES FOR PAINTERS 173
a new device for consideration which, although it may
appear trivial and almost ludicrous, is nevertheless of
great utility in arousing the mind to various inventions.
And this is that if you look at any walls spotted with
various stains or with a mixture of different kinds of
stones, if you are about to invent some scene you will
be able to see in it a resemblance to various different
landscapes adorned with mountains, rivers, rocks, trees,
plains, wide valleys, and various groups of hills. You
will also be able to see divers combats and figures in
quick movement, and strange expressions of faces, and
outlandish costumes, and an infinite number of things
which you can then reduce into separate and well con-
ceived forms. With such walls and blends of different
stones it comes about as it does with the sound of bells,
in whose clanging you may discover every name and
word that you can imagine.
(MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 22 v.)
OF THE GAMES IN WHICH DRAUGHTSMEN
SHOULD INDULGE
When you draughtsmen wish to find some profitable
recreation in games you should always practise things
which may be of use in your profession, that is by
giving your eye accuracy of judgment so that it may
know how to estimate the truth as to the length and
breadth of objects. So in order to accustom the mind
to such things let one of you draw a straight line any-
where on a wall, and then let each of you take a light
174 OF THE TIME FOR STUDY
rush or straw in his hand, and let each cut his own to
the length which the first line appears to him when he
is distant from it a space of ten braccia, and then let
each go up to the copy in order to measure it against
the length which he has judged it to be, and he whose
measure comes nearest to the "length of the copy has
done best and is the winner, and he should receive from
all the prize which was previously agreed upon by
you. Furthermore you should take measurements fore-
shortened, that is, you should take a spear or some other
stick and look before you to a certain point of distance,
and then let each set himself to reckon how many times
this measure is contained in the said distance. Another
thing is to see who can draw the best line one braccio in
length, and this may be tested by tightly drawn thread.
Diversions such as these enable the eye to acquire
accuracy of judgment, and this 'is the primary essential
of painting. (MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 26 p.)
Painters have a good opportunity of observing actions
in players, especially at ball or tennis or with the mallet
when they are contending together, better indeed than
in any other place or exercise. (/ $ v \
OF THE PROPER TIME FOR STUDYING THE SELECTION
OF SUBJECTS
The winter evenings should be spent by youthful
students in study of the things prepared during the
summer ; that is, all the drawings from the nude which
you have made in the summer should be brought
OF THE APTITUDE FOR PAINTING 175
together, and you should make a choice from among
them of the best limbs and bodies and practise at these
and learn them by heart.
OF ATTITUDES
Afterwards in the ensuing summer you should make
choice of some one who has a good presence, and has
not been brought up to wear doublets, and whose figure
consequently has not lost its natural bearing, and make
him go through various graceful and elegant movements.
If he fails to show the muscles very clearly within the
outlines of the limbs, this is of no consequence. It is
enough for you merely to obtain good attitudes from
the figure, and you can correct the limbs by those which
you have studied during the winter.
(MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 27 r.)
AN INDICATION WHETHER A YOUTH HAS AN APTITUDE
FOR PAINTING
There are many men who have a desire and love for
drawing but no aptitude for it, and this can be discerned
in children if they are not diligent and never finish their
copies with shading.
The painter is not worthy of praise who only does
one thing well, as the nude, or a head, or draperies, or
animal life, or landscapes, or such other special subject,
for there is no one so dull of understanding that after
devoting himself to one subject only and continually
practising at this, he will fail to do it well.
i 7 6 PRECEPTS OF PAINTING
PAINTING
Men and words are actual, and you, painter, if you
do not know how to execute your figures, will be
like an orator who does not know how to use his
words. (K 1 10 [30] #)
The painter who draws by practice and judgment of
the eye without the use of reason, is like the mirror
which reproduces within itself all the objects which are
set opposite to it without knowledge of the same.
(C. A. 76 r. a.)
THIS RULE OUGHT TO BE GIVEN TO CHILDREN
WHO PAINT
We know clearly that the sight is one of the swiftest
actions that can exist, for in the same instant it surveys
an infinite number of forms ; nevertheless it can only
comprehend one thing at a time. To take an instance :
you, O Reader, might at a glance look at the whole of
this written page and you would instantly decide that
it is full of various letters, but you will not recognise
in this space of time either what letters they are or what
they purport to say, and therefore it is necessary for you
if you wish to gain a knowledge of these letters to take
them word by word and line by line. Again, if you
wish to go up to the summit of a building it will be
necessary for you to ascend step by step, otherwise it
will be impossible to reach the top. So I say to you
whom nature inclines to this art, if you would have a
true knowledge of the forms of different objects you
PRECEPTS OF PAINTING 177
should commence with their details and not pass on to
the second until the first is well in your memory and
you have practised it. If you do otherwise you will be
throwing away time, and to a certainty you will greatly
prolong the period of study- And remember to acquire
diligence rather than facility.
(MS. 2038, Bib* Nat. z8 r.)
HOW ONE OUGHT FIRST TO LEARN DILIGENCE RATHER
THAN RAPID EXECUTION
If as draughtsman you wish to study well and pro-
fitably, accustom yourself when you are drawing to work
slowly, and to determine between the various lights
which possess the highest degree of brightness and in
what measure, and similarly as to the shadows which are
those that are darker than the rest, and in what manner
they mingle together, and to compare their dimensions
one with another ; and so with the contours to observe
which way they are tending, and as to the lines what
part of each is curved in one way or another, and where
they are more or less conspicuous and consequently thick
or fine ; and lastly to see that your shadows and lights
may blend without strokes or lines in the manner of
smoke. And when you shall have trained your hand
and judgment with this degree of care, it mil speedily
come to pass that you will have no need to take thought
thereto. (MS. 2038, JB& Nat. 27 v.)
OF THE ORDER TO BE OBSERVED IN STUDY
I say that one ought first to learn about the limbs
and how they are worked, and after having completed
i 7 8 OF METHODS OF STUDY
this knowledge one ought to study their actions in the
different conditions in which men are placed, and thirdly
to devise figure compositions, the studies for these 4 be5ng
taken from natural actions made on occasion as oppor-
tunities offered, and one should be on the watch in the
streets and squares and fields, and there make sketches
with rapid strokes to represent features, that is for a
head one may make an 0, and for an arm a straight or
curved line, and so in like manner for the legs and
trunk, afterwards when back at home working up these
notes in a completed form.
My opponent says that in order to gain experience
and to learn how to work readily, it is better that the
first period of study should be spent in copying various
compositions made by different masters either on sheets
of paper or on walls, since from these one acquires
rapidity in execution and a good method. But to this
it may be replied that the ensuing method would be
good if it was founded upon works that were excellent
in composition and by diligent masters ; and since such
masters are so rare that few are to be found, it is safer
to go direct to the works of nature than to those
which have been imitated from her originals with great
deterioration and thereby to acquire a bad method,
for he who has access to the fountain does not go to
the water-pot. (C . Am I9g 9f A)
THE ORDER OF LEARNING TO DRAW
First of all copy drawings by a good master made by
his art from nature and not as exercises ; then from a
HOW TO STUDY FACES 179
relief, keeping by you z drawing done from the same
relief ; then from a good model, and of this you ought
to make a practice. (MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 33 r.)
OF THE WAY TO FIX IN YOUR MIND THE FORM
OF A FACE
If you desire to acquire facility in keeping in your
mind the expression of a face, first learn by heart the
various different kinds of heads, eyes, noses, mouths,
chins, throats, and also necks and shoulders. To take
as an instance noses. They are of ten types : straight,
bulbous, deep-set, prominent either above or below the
centre, aquiline, regular, ape-like, round, and pointed.
These divisions hold good as regards profile. Seen from
in front noses are of twelve types : thick in the middle,
thin in the middle, with the tip broad and narrow at the
base, or narrow at the tip and broad at the base, with
nostrils broad or narrow, or high or low, and with the
openings either distended or hidden by the tip. And
similarly you "will find variety in the other features ; of
which things you ought to make studies from nature and
so fix them in your mind. Or when you have to draw
a face from memory, carry with you a small note-book
in which you have noted down such features, and then
when you have cast a glance at the face of the person
whom you wish to draw, you can then look privately
and see which nose or mouth has a resemblance to it,
and make a tiny mark against it in order to recognise
it again at home. Of monstrous faces I here say
nothing, for they are kept in mind without difficulty.
(MS. 2038, Btl>, Nut. 26 r.)
i8o OF FACES AND LIMBS
OF THE PARTS OF THE FACE
If nature had only one fixed standard for the propor-
tions of the various parts, then the faces of all men
would resemble each other to such a degree that it would
be impossible to distinguish one from another ; but she
has varied the five parts of the face in such a way that
although she has made an almost universal standard as
to their size she has not observed it in the various con-
ditions to such a degree as to prevent one from being
clearly distinguished from another. (C. A* ng v. a.)
OF THE ARRANGEMENT OF THE LI&BS
As regards the arrangement of the limbs, you should
bear in mind that when you wish to represent one who
by some chance has either to turn backwards or on one
side you must not make him move his feet and all his
limbs in the same direction as he turns his head ; but
you should show the process spreading itself and taking
effect over the four sets of joints, namely those of ,the
foot, the knee, the hip, and the neck. And if you let
his weight rest on the right leg, you should make the
knee of the left bend inwards ; and the foot of it should
be slightly raised on the outside, and the left shoulder
should be somewhat lower than the right ; and the nape
of the neck should be exactly above the outer curve of
the ankle of the left foot, and the left shoulder should
be above the toe of the right foot in a perpendicular
line. <And always so dispose your figures that the
direction in which the head is turned is not that in
which the breast faces, since nature has for our con-
OF LIMBS 181
venience so formed the neck that it can easily serve the
different occasions on which the eye desires to turn in
various directions; and to this same organ the other
joints are in part responsive. And if ever you show a
man sitting with his hands at work upon something by
his side, make the chest turn upon the hip-joints.
(MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 30 n)
OF PAINTING
If you have to represent a man either as moving or
lifting or pulling or carrying a weight equal to his own
weight how ought you to fit the legs under his body ?
(C. A. 349 r. )
OF THE CONFORMITY OF THE LIMBS
Further I remind you to pay great attention in giving
limbs to your figures so that they may not merely appear
to harmonise with the size of the body but also with
its age. So the limbs of youths should have few muscles
and veins, and have a soft surface and be rounded and
pleasing in colour ; in men they should be sinewy and
full of muscles; in old men the surface should be
wrinkled, and rough and covered with veins, and with
the sinews greatly protruding.
HOW LITTLE CHILDREN HAVE THEIR JOINTS THE RE-
VERSE OF THOSE OF MEN IN THEIR THICKNESS
Little children have all the joints slender while the
intervening parts are thick ; and this is due to the fact
that the joints are only covered by skin and there is no
1 82 OF LIMBS
flesh at all over them, and this skin acts as a sinew to gird
and bind together the bones ; and a flabby layer of flesh
is found between one joint and the next shut in between
the skin and the bone. But since the bones are thicker at
the joints than between them, the flesh as the man grows
up loses that superfluity which existed between the skin
and the bone, and so the skin is drawn nearer to the bone
and causes the limbs to seem more slender. But since
there is nothing above the joints except cartilaginous
and sinewy skin this cannot dry up, and not being dried
up it does not shrink. So for these reasons the limbs of
children are slender at the joints and thick between the
joints, as is seen in the joints of the fingers, arms, and
shoulders which are slender and have great dimples ; and
a man on the contrary has all the joints of fingers, arms,
and legs thick, and where children have hollows men have
the joints protruding. (MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 28 *.)
OF THE GRACE OF THE LIMBS
The limbs should fit the body gracefully in harmony
with the effect you wish the figure to produce ; and if
you desire to create a figure which shall possess a charm
of its own, you should make it with limbs graceful and
extended, without showing too many of the muscles,
and the few which your purpose requires you to show
indicate briefly, that is without giving them prominence
and with the shadows not sharply defined, and the limbs,
and especially the arms, should be easy, that is that no
limb should be in a straight line with the part that ad-
joins it. And if the hips, which form as it were the
poles of the man, are by his position placed so that the
OF THE MUSCLES 183
rignt is higher than the left, you should make the top
shoulder joint so that a line drawn from it perpendicu-
larly falls on the most prominent part of the hip, and
let this right shoulder be lower than the left. And let
the hollow of the throat always be exactly over the
middle of the joint of the foot which is resting on the
ground. The leg which does not support the weight
should have its knee below the other and near to the
other leg.
The positions of the head and arms are numberless,
and therefore I will not attempt to give any rule; it
will suffice that they should be natural and pleasing and
should bend and turn in various ways, with the joints
moving freely so that they may not seem like pieces of
Wood. (MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 29 ft.)
PAINTING
O painter skilled in anatomy, beware lest the undue
prominence of the bones, sinews, and muscles cause you
to become a wooden painter from the desire to make
your nude figures reveal all their emotions. And if you
wish to remedy this you should consider in what way the
muscles of old or lean persons cover or clothe the bones,
and futhermore note the principle on which these same
muscles fill up the spaces of the surface which come
between them, and which are the muscles that never
lose their prominence in any degree of fatness what-
soever, and which those whereof the tendons become
indistinguishable at the least suggestion of it. And
there are many cases when several muscles grow to look
one from the increase of fat, and many in which when
184 OF THE MUSCLES
any one becomes lean or old a single muscle divides into
several ; and in this treatise all their peculiarities shall
be set forth each in its place, and especially with regard
to the spaces that come between the joints of each limb.
Further you should not fail to observe the variations
of the aforesaid muscles round the joints of the limbs
of any animal, due to the diversity of the movements of
each limb ; for on any side of these joints the indication
of these muscles becomes completely lost by reason
either of the increase or diminution of the flesh of which
these muscles are composed. (E 19 v.)
OF PAINTING
It is a necessary thing for the painter in order to be
able to fashion the limbs correctly in the positions and
actions which they can represent in the nude, to know
the anatomy of the sinews, bones, muscles and tendons
in order to know in the various different movements
and impulses which sinew or muscle is the cause of each
movement, and to make only these prominent and
thickened, and not the others all over the limb, as do
many who in order to appear great draughtsmen make
their nudes wooden and without grace, so that it seems
rather as if you were looking at a sack of nuts than a
human form or at a bundle of radishes rather than the
muscles of nudes* (L 79 r.)
HOW IT IS NECESSARY FOR THE PAINTER TO KNOW
THE INNER STRUCTURE OF MAN
The painter who has acquired a knowledge of the
nature of the sinews, muscles, and tendons will know
OF DRAPERIES 185
exactly in the movement of any limb how many, and
which of the sinews are the cause of it, and which muscle
by its swelling is the cause of this sinew contracting, and
which sinews having been changed into most delicate
cartilage surround and contain the said muscle. So he
will be able in divers ways and universally to indicate
the various muscles by means of the different attitudes
of his figures ; and he will not do like many who in
different actions always make the same things appear in
the arm, the back, the breast, and the legs; for such
things as these ought not to rank in the category of
minor faults. (MS. 2038, ^^ r.)
OF THE NATURE OF THE FOLDS OF DRAPERIES
That part of the fold which is furthest from the ends
where it is confined will return most closely to its
original form. Everything naturally desires to remain
in its own state. Drapery being of uniform density
and thickness on the reverse and on the right side,
desires to lie flat ; consequently, whenever any folds or
pleats force it to quit this condition of flatness, it obeys
the law of this force in that part of itself where it is
most constrained, and the part furthest away from such
constraint you will find return most nearly to its original
state, that is to say, lying extended and full.
(MS. 1038, Sib* Nat. 4 r.)
How one ought not to give drapery a confusion of
many folds, but only make them where it is held by the
hands or arms, and the rest may be suffered to fall simply
where its nature draws it : and do not let the contour
t86 OF DRAPERIES
of the figure be broken by too many lines or interrupted
folds.
How draperies should be drawn from nature : that is,
if you wish to represent woollen cloth draw the folds
from the same material, and if it is to be silk, or fine
cloth, or homespun, or of linen, or crape, show the
different nature of the folds in each ; and do not make
a costume as many make it from models covered with
pieces of paper or thin leather, for you will be deceiving
yourself greatly. (MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 17 *.)
OF THE FEW FOLDS IN DRAPERIES
How figures when dressed in a cloak ought not to
show the shape to such an extent that the cloak seems
to be next to the flesh ; for surely you would not wish
that the cloak should be next the flesh since you must
realise that between the cloak and the flesh are other
garments which prevent the shape of the limbs from
being visible and appearing through the cloak- And
those limbs which you make visible make thick of their
kind so that there may seem to be other garments there
under the cloak. And you should only allow the almost
identical thickness of the limbs to be visible in a nymph
or an angel, for these are represented clad in light
draperies, which .by the blowing of the wind are driven
and pressed against the various limbs of the figures.
(MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 1 8 r.)
OF PAINTING
In order to produce the same effect of action in a
picture on the part of an old man and a young, you
PLATE S
STUDY OF DRAPERY OF KNEELING FIGURE
Fact p. 1 86
PRECEPTS OF PAINTING 187
must make the action of the young man appear more
vigorous in proportion as he is more powerful than the
old man, and you will make the same difference between
a young man and an infant. (C. A, 349 r. b.)
Let the movements of men be such as are in keeping
with their dignity or meanness. (C. A. 345 v. b.)
Make your work to be in keeping with your purpose
and design ; that is, when you make your figure you
should consider carefully who it is and what you wish it
to be doing. (C. A. 349 r. b.)
PRECEPTS OF PAINTING
Let the sketches for historical subjects be rapid, and
the working of the limbs not too much finished. Con-
tent yourself with merely giving the positions of these
limbs which you will then be able at your leisure to
finish as you please. (MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 8 v.)
The youth ought first to learn perspective, then the
proportions of everything, then he should learn from the
hand of a good master in order to accustom himself to
good limbs ; then from nature in order to confirm for
himself the reasons for what he has learnt ; then for a
time he should study the work of different masters :
then make it a habit to practise and work at his art.
How the first picture was nothing but a line which
surrounded the shadow of a man made by the sun upon
a wall.
How historical pictures ought not to be crowded and
confused by many figures.
How old men should be shown with slow, listless
i88 OF GROUPS OF FIGURES
movements, with the legs bent at the knees when they
are standing up, with the feet parallel and separated one
from another, the spine bent low, the head leaning
forward, and the arms not too far apart.
How women should be represented in modest atti-
tudes, with legs close together, arms folded^ and with
their heads low and bending sideways.
How old women should be represented as bold, with
swift, passionate movements like the infernal furies, and
these movements should seem quicker in the arms and
heads than in the legs.
Little children should be represented when sitting as
twisting themselves about with quick movements, and in
shy, timid attitudes when standing up.
(MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 17 v.)
OF THE METHOD OF LEARNING ARIGHT HOW TO COMPOSE
GROUPS OF FIGURES IN HISTORICAL PICTURES
When you have thoroughly learnt perspective, and
have fixed in your memory all the various parts and
forms of things, you should often amuse yourself when
you take a walk for recreation, in watching and taking
note of the attitudes and actions of men as they talk and
dispute, or laugh or come to blows one with another,
both their actions and those of the bystanders who either
intervene or stand looking on at these things ; noting
these down with rapid strokes in this way, 1 in a little
pocket-book, which you ought always to carry with you.
And let this be of tinted paper, so that it may not be
rubbed out ; but you should change the old for a new
1 Sketch of figure in text of MS.
OF MURAL PAINTINGS iBg
one, for these are not things to be rubbed out but
preserved with the utmost diligence ; for there is such
an infinite number of forms and actions of things that
the memory is incapable of preserving them, and there-
fore you should keep those [sketches] as your patterns
and teachers. (MS. 2038, Bib. Nat, 27 v.
WHY THE REPRESENTING OF GROUPS OF FIGURES ONE
ABOVE ANOTHER IS TO BE AVOIDED
This custom, which is universally adopted by painters
for the walls of chapels, is by right strongly to be
censured, seeing that they represent one composition at
one level with its landscape and buildings, and then
mount to the stage above it and make another, and so
vary the point of sight from that of the first painting, and
then make a third, and a fourth, in such a way that the
work on the one wall shows four points of sight, which
is the height of folly on the part of such masters. Now
we know that the point of sight is opposite the eye of
the spectator of the composition, and if you were to ask
me how I should represent the life of a saint when it is
divided up in several compositions on the same wall, to
this I reply that you ought to set the foreground with
its point of sight on a level with the eye of the spectators
of the composition, and at this same plane make the
chief episode on a large scale, and then by diminishing
gradually the figures and buildings upon the various hills
and plains, you should represent all the incidents of the
story- And on the rest of the wall up to the top you
should make trees large as compared with the figures, or
angels if these are appropriate to the story, or birds or
i 9 o OF PORTRAIT PAINTING
clouds or similar things; but otherwise do not put
yourself to the trouble for the whole of your work will
be wrong. (MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 16 r.)
OF THE CHOICE OF THE LIGHT WHICH GIVES
A GRACE TO FACES
If you have a courtyard which when you so please you
can cover over with a linen awning the light will then be
excellent. Or when you wish to paint a portrait paint
it in bad weather, at the fall of the evening, placing the
sitter with his back to one of the walls of the courtyard.
Notice in the streets at the fall of the evening the faces
of tfite men and women when it is bad weather, what
grace and softness they display. Therefore, O painter,
you should have a courtyard fitted up with the walls
tinted in black and with the roof projecting forward -
a little beyond the wall ; and the width of it should be
ten braccia, and the length twenty braccia, and the
height ten braccia ; and you should cover it over with
the awning when the sun is on it, or else you should
make your portrait at the hour of the fall of the evening
when it is cloudy or misty, for the light then is perfect.
(MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 20 v.)
OF THE CHOICE OF BEAUTIFUL FACES
Methinks it is no small grace in a painter to be able
to give a pleasing air to his figures, and whoever is not
naturally possessed of this grace may acquire it by study,
as opportunity offers, in the following manner. Be on
the watch to take the best parts of many beautiful faces
OF LIMBS 191
of which the beauty is established rather by general
repute than by your own judgment, for you may readily
deceive yourself by selecting such faces as bear- a re-
semblance to your own, for it would often seem that
such similarities please us ; and if you were ugly you
would not select beautiful faces, and so you would be
creating ugly faces like many painters whose types often
resemble their master ; so therefore choose the beautiful
ones as I have said, and fix them in your mind.
(MS. 2038, Bit. Nat. 27 n)
OF THE ERROR WHICH IS COMMITTED IN JUDGING
AS TO THE LIMBS
The painter who has clumsy hands will reproduce the
same in his works, and the same thing will happen with
every limb unless long study prevents it. Do you then,
O painter, take careful note of that part in yourself which
is most mis-shapen, and apply yourself by study to
remedy this entirely. For if you are brutal, your figures
will be the same and devoid of grace, and in like manner
every quality that there is within you of good or of evil
will be in part revealed in your figures. (A 23 r.)
A picture or any representation of figures ought to
be done in such a way that those who see them may
be able with ease to recognise from their attitudes what
is passing through their minds. So if you have to
represent a man of good repute in the act of speaking,
make his gestures accord with the probity of his speech ;
and similarly if you have to represent a brutal man,
make him with fierce movements flinging out his arms
i 9 2 OF GESTURE
towards his hearer, and the head and chest protruding
forward beyond the feet should seem to accompany the
hands of the speaker.
Just so a deaf mute who sees two people talking,
although being himself deprived of the power of hearing,
is none the less able to divine from the movements and
gestures of the speakers the subject of their discussion.
I once saw in Florence a man who had become deaf,
who could not understand you if you spoke to him
loudly, while if you spoke softly without letting the
voice utter any sound, he understood you merely from
the movement of the lips. Perhaps, however, you will
say to me : * But does not a man who speaks loudly move
his lips like one who speaks softly ? And since the one
moves his lips like the other, will not the one be under-
stood like the other ? * As to this I leave the decision
to the test of experience. Set some one to speak softly
and then [loudly], and watch the lips !
(C. A. 139 *'.)
HOW A FIGURE IS NOT WORTHY OF PRAISE UNLESS SUCH
ACTION APPEARS IN IT AS SERVES TO EXPRESS THE
PASSION OF THE SOUL
That figure is most worthy of praise which by its
action best expresses the passion which animates it.
HOW ONE OUGHT TO REPRESENT AN ANGRY FIGURE
An angry figure should be represented seizing some
one by the hair and twisting his head down to the
ground, with one knee on his ribs, and with the right
OF A NIGHT SCENE 193
arm and fist raised high up; let him have his hair
dishevelled, his eyebrows low and knit together, his
teeth clenched, the two corners of his mouth arched,
and the neck, which is all swollen and extended as he
bends over the foe, should be full of furrows.
HOW TO REPRESENT A MAN IN DESPAIR
A man who is in despair you should make turning
his knife against himself, and rending his garments with
his hands, and one of his hands should be in the act
of tearing open his wound. Make him with his feet
apart, his legs somewhat bent, and the whole body like-
wise bending to the ground, and with his hair torn and
streaming. (MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 29 v.)
OF THE WAY TO REPRESENT A NIGHT SCENE
Whatever is entirely deprived of light is all darkness.
When such is the condition of night, if you wish to re-
present a scene therein, you must arrange to introduce a
great fire there, and then the things which are nearest to
the fire will be more deeply tinged with its colour, for
whatever is nearest to the object partakes most fully
of its nature ; and making the fire of a reddish colour
you should represent all the things illuminated by it as
being also of a ruddy hue, while those which are farther
away from the fire should be dyed more deeply with
the black colour of the night. The figures which are
between you and the fire will appear dark against the
brightness of the flame, for that part of the object which
you perceive is coloured by the darkness of the night,
N
I 94 OF AN ORATOR
and not by the brightness of the fire ; those which are
at the sides should be half in shadow and half in ruddy
light ; and those visible beyond the edge of the flames
will all be lit up with ruddy light against a dark back-
ground. As for their actions, show those who are near
it, making a screen with hands and cloaks as a protection
against the unbearable heat, with faces turned away as
though on the point of flight; while of those further
away you should show a great number pressing their
hands upon their eyes, hurt by the intolerable glare.
(MS. 2038, m. Nat. 1 8 v.)
OF HOW TO REPRESENT SOME ONE WHO IS SPEAKING
AMONG A GROUP OF PERSONS
When you desire to represent any one speaking among
a group of persons you ought to consider first the
subject of which he has to treat, and how so to order
his actions that they may be in keeping with this sub-
ject. That is, if the subject be persuasive the actions
should serve this intention ; if it be one that needs to be
expounded under various heads, the speaker should take
a finger of his left hand between two fingers of his right,
keeping the two smaller ones closed, 1 and let his face
be animated and turned towards the people, with mouth
slightly opened, so as to give the effect of speaking.
And if he is seated let him seem to be in the act of
raising himself more upright, with his head forward ;
and if you represent him standing, make him leaning
forward 3. little with head and shoulders towards the
* MS. has 'serate.' M. Ravaisson-Mollien gives searate/ and translate*
as though it were ' separate/
NOTES FOR 'THE LAST SUPPER' 195
populace, whom you should show silent and attentive,
and all watching the face of the orator with gestures
of admiration. Show the mouths of some of the old
men with the corners pulled down in astonishment at
what they hear, drawing back the cheeks in many
furrows, with their eyebrows raised where they meet,
making many wrinkles on their foreheads; and show
some sitting with the fingers of their hands locked
together and clasping their weary knees, and others
decrepit old men with one knee crossed over the other,
and one hand resting upon it which serves as a cup
for the other elbow, while the other hand supports the
bearded chin. (MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 21 r.)
[NOTES FOR * THE LAST SUPPER ]
One who was drinking has left the glass where it was
and turned his head towards the speaker. Another
twists the- fingers of his hands together and turns with
set brows to his companion. Another with his hands
spread open displays their palms and shrugs his shoulders
up towards his ears and gapes in astonishment. Another
is speaking in his neighbour's ear, and he who listens
turns towards him and gives him hearing, holding in
one hand a knife, and in the other the bread half cut
through by the knife. Another, as he turns round
holding a knife in his hand, has upset with his hand a
glass which is upon the table.
Another rests his hands upon the table and watches.
Another blows out his mouth. Another bends forward
to see the speaker and makes a shade for his eyes with
-his hand. Another leans back behind the one who is
196 OF A TEMPEST
bending forward, and sees the speaker between the wall
and him who bends forward.
(S. K. Af. ., 62 v. and 63 r.)
HOW TO REPRESENT A TEMPEST
If you wish to represent a tempest properly, consider
and set down exactly what are the results when the wind
blowing over the face of the sea and of the land lifts and
carries with it everything that is not immovable in the
general mass. And in order properly to represent this
tempest, you must first of all show the clouds, riven and
torn, swept along in the path of the wind, together with
storms of sand blown up from the sea shores, and
branches and leaves caught up by the irresistible fury
of the gale and scattered through the air, and with them
many other things of light weight. The trees and shrubs
should be bent to the ground, as though showing their
desire to follow the direction of the wind, with their
branches twisted out of their natural growth and their
leaves tossed and inverted. Of the men who are there,
some should have fallen and be lying wrapped round by
their garments and almost indistinguishable on account of
the dust, and those who are left standing should be behind
some tree with their arms thrown round it to prevent
the wind from dragging them away ; others should be
shown crouching on the ground, their hands over their
eyes because of the dust, their garments and hair stream-
ing in the wind* Let the sea be wild and tempestuous, and
between the crests of its waves it should be covered with
eddying foam, and the wind should carry the finer spray
through the stormy air after the manner of a thick and
OF A BATTLE 197
all-enveloping mist. Of the ships that are there, some
you should show with sail rent and the shreds of it
flapping in the air in company with the broken halyards,
and some of the masts broken and gone by the board,
and the vessel itself lying disabled and broken by the
fury of the waves, with some of the crew shrieking and
clinging to the fragments of the wreck. You should
show the clouds, driven by the impetuous winds, hurled
against the high mountain tops, and there wreathing
and eddying like waves that beat upon the rocks ; the
very air should strike terror through the murky darkness
occasioned therein by the dust and mist and thick clouds.
(MS. 2038, Bib* Nat. 21 r.)
THE WAY TO REPRESENT A BATTLE
Show first the smoke of the artillery mingled in the
air with the dust stirred up by the movement of the
horses and of the combatants. This process you should
express as follows : the dust, since it is made up of earth
and has weight, although by reason of its fineness it may
easily rise and mingle with the air, will nevertheless
readily fall down again, and the greatest height will be
attained by such part of it as is the finest, and this will
in consequence be the least visible and will seem almost
the colour of the air itself.
The smoke which is mingled with the dust-laden air
will as it rises to a certain height have more and more
the appearance of a dark cloud, at the summit of which
the smoke will be more distinctly visible than the dust.
The smoke will assume a bluish tinge, and the dust will
198 OF A BATTLE
keep its natural colour. From the side whence the
light comes this mixture of air and smoke and dust will
seem far brighter than on the opposite side.
As for the combatants, the more they are in the midst
of this turmoil the less they will be visible, and the less
will be the contrast between their lights and shadows.
You should give a ruddy glow to the faces and the figures
and the air around them, and to the gunners and those near
to them, and this glow should grow fainter as it is further
away from its cause- The figures which are between
you and the light, if far away, will appear dark against
a light background, and the nearer their limbs are to the
ground the less will they be visible, for there the dust is
greater and thicker. And if you make horses galloping
away from tjie throng make little clouds of dust as far
distant one from another as is the space between the
strides made by the horse, and that cloud which is further
away from the horse should be the least visible, for it
should be high and spread out and thin, while that which
'is nearer should be more conspicuous and smaller and
more compact.
Let the air be full of arrows going in various direc-
tions, some mounting upwards, others falling, others
flying horizontally, and let the balls shot from the guns
have a train of smoke following their course. Show the
figures in the foreground covered with dust on their
hair and eyebrows and such other level parts as afford
the dust a space to lodge.
Make the conquerors running, with their hair and
Other light things streaming in the wind, and with brows
bent down ; and they should be thrusting forward
OF A BATTLE 199
opposite limbs, that is, if a man advances the right foot
the left arm should also come forward. If you represent
any one fallen you should show the mark where he has
been dragged through the dust, which has become
changed to blood-stained mire, and round about in the
half-liquid earth you should show the marks of the
tramping of men and horses who have passed over it.
Make a horse dragging the dead body of his master, and
leaving behind him in the dust and mud the track of
where the body was dragged along.
Make the beaten and conquered pallid, with brows
raised and knit together, and let the skin above the
brows be all full of lines of pain ; at the sides of the
nose show the furrows going in an arch from the nostrils
and ending where the eye begins, and show the dilation
of the nostrils which is the cause of these lines ; and let
the lips be arched displaying the upper row of teeth,
and let the teeth be parted after the manner of such as
cry in lamentation. Show some one using his hand as
a shield for his terrified eyes, turning the palm of it
towards the enemy, and having the other resting on the
ground to support the weight of his body ; let others be
crying out with their mouths wide open, and fleeing
away. Put all sorts of arms lying between the feet of
the combatants, such as broken shields, lances, broken
swords, and other things like these* Make the dead,
some half buried in dust, others with the dust all mingled
with the oozing blood and changing into crimson mud ;
and let the line of the blood be discerned by its colour,
flowing in a sinuous stream from the corpse to the dust.
Show others in the death agony grinding their teeth and
200 OF A BATTLE
rolling their eyes, with clenched fists grinding against
their bodies, and with legs distorted. Then you might
show one, disarmed and struck down by the enemy,
turning on him with teeth and nails to take fierce and
inhuman vengeance ; and let a riderless horse be seen
galloping with mane streaming in the wind, charging
among the enemy and doing them great mischief with
his heels. You may see there one of the combatants
maimed and fallen on the ground protecting himself with
his shield, and the enemy bending down over him and
striving to give him the fatal stroke ; there might also
be seen many men fallen in a heap on top of a dead
horse ; and you should show some of the victors leaving
the combat and retiring apart from the crowd, and with
both hands wiping away from eyes and cheeks the thick
layer of mud caused by the smarting of their eyes from
the dust. 1 And the squadrons of the reserves should be
seen standing full of hope but cautious, with eyebrows
raised, and shading their eyes with their hands, peering
into the thick, heavy mist in readiness for the commands
of their captain ; and so too the captain with his staff
raised, hurrying to the reserves and pointing out to them
the quarter of the field where they are needed ; and you
should show a river, within which horses are galloping,
stirring the water all around with a heaving mass of
waves and foam and broken water, leaping high into the
air and over the legs and bodies of the horses ; but see
that you make no level spot of ground that is not
trampled over with blood.
(MS. 2038, JBib. Nat. 31 r. and 30 v.)
1 MS. has 'per lamor della polvere.*
OF A DELUGE 201
REPRESENTATION OF A DELUGE
The air was dark from the heavy rain which was
falling slantwise bent by the cross current of the winds
and formed itself in waves in the air, like those one sees
formed by the dust, the only difference being that these
drifts were furrowed by the lines made by the drops of
the falling water. It was tinged by the colour of
the fire produced by the thunderbolts wherewith the
clouds were rent and torn asunder, the flashes from
which smote and tore open the vast waters of the flooded
valleys, and as these lay open there were revealed in their
depths * the bowed summits of the trees.
Neptune might be seen with his trident in the midst
of the waters, and Eolus with his winds should be shown
entangling the floating trees which had been uprooted
and were mingled with the mighty waves.
The horizon and the whole firmament was overcast and
lurid with the flashings of the incessant lightning. Men
and birds might be seen crowded together upon the tall
trees which over-topped the swollen waters forming hills
which surround the great abysses. (G 6 v.)
OF A DELUGE AND THE REPRESENTATION OF IT
IN PAINTING
Let the dark, gloomy air be seen beaten by the rush
of opposing winds wreathed in perpetual rain mingled
with hail, 2 and bearing hither and thither a vast network
1 Dr. Richter reads *vertici/ I have followed M. Ravaisson-Mollicn in
reading * ventri, ' The MS. has vertri. '
* MS. * gravza/ I have followed Dr. Richter's wggestion 'gragnuola/
201 OF A DELUGE
of the torn branches of trees mixed together with an
infinite number of leaves. All around let there be seen
ancient trees uprooted and torn in pieces by the fury
of the winds. You should show how fragments of
mountains which have been already stripped bare by the
rushing torrents fall headlong into these very torrents
and choke up the valleys, until the pent-up rivers rise in
flood and cover the wide plains and their inhabitants.
Again there might be seen huddled together on the tops
of many of the mountains many different sorts of animals,
terrified and subdued at last to a state of tameness, in
company with men and women who had fled there with
their children. And the fields which were covered with
water had their waves covered over in great part with
tables, bedsteads, boats and various other kinds of rafts
improvised through necessity and fear of death, upon
which were men and women with their children, massed
together and uttering various cries and lamentations,
dismayed by the fury of the winds which were causing
the waters to roll over and over in mighty hurricane,
bearing with them the bodies of the drowned ; and there
was no object that floated on the water but was covered
with various different animals who had made truce and
stood huddled together in terror, among them being
wolves, foxes, snakes, and creatures of every kind,
fugitives from death. And all the waves that beat
against their sides were striking them with repeated
blows from the various bodies of the drowned, and the
blows were killing those in whom life remained.
Some groups of men you might have seen with arms in
their hands defending the tiny footholds that remained to
OF A DELUGE 303
them from the lions and wolves and beasts of prey
which sought safety there. Ah, what dreadful tumults
one heard resounding through the gloomy air, smitten by
the fury of the thunder and the lightning it flashed forth,
which sped through it, bearing ruin, striking down
whatever withstood its course ! Ah, how many might
you have seen stopping their ears with their hands in
order to shut out the loud uproar caused through the
darkened air by the fury of the winds mingled together
with the rain, the thunder of the heavens and the raging
of the thunderbolts ! Others were not content to shut
their eyes, but placing their hands over them, one above
the other, would cover them more tightly in order not
to see the pitiless slaughter made of the human race by
the wrath of God.
Ah me, how many lamentations ! How many in their
terror flung themselves down from the rocks 1 You
might have seen huge branches of the giant oaks laden
with men borne along through the air by the fury of the
impetuous winds. How many boats were capsized and
lying, some whole, others broken in pieces, on the top
of men struggling to escape with acts and gestures of
despair which foretold an awful death* Others with
frenzied acts were taking their own lives, in despair of ever
being able to endure such anguish ; some of these were
flinging themselves down from the lofty rocks, others
strangled themselves with their own hands ; some seized
hold of their own children, and with mighty violence 1
slew them at one blow ; some turned their arms against
1 MS. Vnpeto * impeto.' Richter reads MS. as rapito,' and gives in text
'rapidita/
20 4 OF A DELUGE
themselves to wound and slay ; others falling upon their
knees were commending themselves to God.
Alas, how many mothers were bewailing their drowned
sons, holding them upon their knees, lifting up open
arms to heaven, and with divers cries and shrieks
declaiming against the anger of the gods ! Others with
hands denched and fingers locked together gnawed and
devoured them with bites that ran blood, crouching down
so that their breasts touched their knees in their intense
and intolerable agony.
Herds of animals, such as horses, oxen, goats, sheep,
were to be seen already hemmed in by the waters and left
isolated upon the high peaks of the mountains, all huddling
together, and those in the middle climbing to the top and
treading on the others, and waging fierce battles with
each other, and many of them dying from want of food.
And the birds had already begun to settle upon men
and other animals, no longer finding any land left
unsubmerged which was not covered with living creatures.
Already had hunger the minister of death taken away
their life from the greater number of the animals, when
the dead bodies already becoming lighter began to rise
from out the bottom of the deep waters and emerged to
the surface among the contending waves ; and there lay
beating one against another, and as balls puffed up with
wind rebound back from the spot where they strike, these
fell back and lay upon the other dead bodies. And
above these horrors the atmosphere was seen covered
with murky clouds that were rent by the jagged course
of the raging thunderbolts of heaven which flashed light
hither and thither amid the obscurity of the darkness.
OF A DELUGE 205
The velocity of the air is seen by the movement of
the dust stirred by the running of a horse ; and it moves
as swiftly to fill up the void left in the air which had
enclosed the horse as is the speed of the horse in passing
away from the aforesaid space of air.
But it will perhaps seem to you that you have cause
to censure me for having represented the different
courses taken in the air by the movement of the wind,
whereas the wind is not of itself visible in the air ; to this
I reply that it is not the movement of the wind itself
but the movement of the things carried by it which
alone is visible in the air.
THE DIVISIONS
Darkness, wind, tempest at sea ; deluge of water,
woods on fire, rain, thunderbolts from the sky, earth-
quakes and destruction of mountains, levelling of
cities.
Whirlwinds which carry water and branches of trees
and men through the air.
Branches torn away by the winds crashing together
at the meeting of the winds, with people on the top of
them.
Trees broken off laden with people.
Ships broken in pieces dashed upon the rocks.
Hail, thunderbolts, whirlwinds*
Herds of cattle*
People on trees which cannot bear them: trees and
rocks,* towers, hills crowded with people, boats, tables,
206 OF A DELUGE
troughs and other contrivances for floating, hills
covered with men and women and animals, with light-
nings from the clouds which illumine the whole scene.
(Windsor MSS. ttudts et dessins sur ? atmosphere [Rouveyrc] 17 *.)
DESCRIPTION OF THE DELUGE
First of all let there be represented the summit of a
rugged mountain with certain of the valleys that sur-
round its base, and on its sides let the surface of the
soil be seen slipping down together with the tiny roots
of the small shrubs, and leaving bare a great part of the
surrounding rocks. Sweeping down in devastation from
these precipices, let it pursue its headlong course, striking
and laying bare the twisted and gnarled roots of the
great trees and overturning them in ruin. And the
mountains becoming bare should reveal the deep fissures
made in them by the ancient earthquakes ; and let the
bases of the mountains be in great part covered over
and clad with the debris of the shrubs which have fallen
headlong from the sides of the lofty peaks of the said
mountains, and let these be mingled together with mud,
roots, branches of trees, with various kinds of leaves
thrust in among the mud and earth and stones. And
let the fragments of some of the mountains have fallen
down into the depth of one. of the valleys, and there form
a barrier to the swollen waters of its river, which having
already burst the barrier rushes on with immense waves,
the greatest of which are striking and laying in ruin the
walls of the cities and farms of the valley. And from
the ruins of the lofty buildings of the aforesaid cities let
there rise a great quantity of d'ust mounting up in the
OF A DELUGE 207
air with the appearance of smoke or of wreathed clouds
that battle against the descending rain.
But the swollen waters should be coursing round the
pool which confines them, and striking against various
obstacles with whirling eddies, leaping up into the air
in turbid foam, and then falling back and causing the
water where they strike to be dashed up into the air ;
and the circling waves which recede from the point of
contact are impelled by their impetus right across the
course of the other circling waves which move in an
opposite direction to them, and after striking against
these they leap up into the air without becoming de-
tached from their base. And where the water issues
forth from the said pool, the spent waves are seen
spreading out towards the outlet ; after which, falling or
descending through the air, this water acquires weight
and impetus ; and then piercing the water where it strikes,
it tears it apart and dives down in fury to reach its
depth, and then recoiling it springs back again towards
the surface of the lake accompanied by the air which has
been submerged with it, and this remains in the slimy
foam 1 mingled with the driftwood and other things
lighter than the water, and around these again are formed
the beginnings of the waves, which increase the more in
circumference as they acquire more movement ; and this
movement makes them lower in proportion as they
acquire a wider base, and therefore they become almost
imperceptible as they die away. But if the waves re-
bound against various obstacles then they leap back and
1 Richter's transcript ( 609) is*vissci cholla"* and he reads *nella usdta
colla sciuma.* The MS. has I think 'visscichosa,* which I have taken as a
variant of * vischiosa.*
208 OF A DELUGE
oppose the approach of the other waves, following the
same law of development in their curve as they have
already shown in their original movement. The rain as
it falls from the clouds is of the same colour as these
clouds, that is on its shaded side, unless, however, the
rays of the sun should penetrate there, for if this were
so the rain would appear less dark than the cloud. And
if the great masses of the debris of huge mountains or
of large buildings strike in their fall the mighty lakes of
the waters, then a vast quantity of water will rebound
in the air, and its course will be in an opposite direction
to that of the substance which struck the water, that is to
say the angle of reflection will be equal to the angle of
incidence.
Of the objects borne along by the current of the
waters that will be at a greater distance from the two
opposite banks which is heavier or of larger bulk. The
eddies of the waters revolve most swiftly in those parts
which are nearest to their centre. The crests of the
waves of the sea fall forward to their base, beating and
rubbing themselves against the smooth particles which
form their face ; and by this friction the water as it falls
is ground up in tiny particles, 1 and becomes changed to
thick mist and is mingled in the currents of the winds
in the manner of wreathing smoke or winding clouds,
and at last rises up in the air and becomes changed into
clouds. But the rain which falls through the air being
beaten upon and driven by the current of the winds
becomes rare or dense according to the rarity or density
of these winds, and by this means there is produced
1 MS. ' e ttal confrcghatione trita in minute partichule la dissciente acqua.'
OF A DELUGE 209
throughout the air a flood of transparent clouds which
Is formed by the aforesaid rain and becomes visible in it
by means of the lines made by the fail of the rain which
io near to the eye of the spectator. 1 The waves of the
sea that beats against the shelving base of the mountains
which confine it, rush 2 foaming in speed up to the ridge
of these same hills, and in turning back meet the onset
of the succeeding wave, and after loud roaring return in
a mighty flood to the sea from whence they came. A
great number of the inhabitants, men and different
animals, may be seen driven by the rising of the deluge
up towards the summits of the hills which border on
the said waters.
Waves of the sea at Piombino all of foaming water.
Of the water that leaps up (of the place where the
great masses fall and strike the waters) 3 of the winds
of Piombino.
Eddies of winds and of rain with branches and trees
mingled with the air.
The emptying the boats of the rain water.
(Windsor MSS. Studes et dessins sur ? atmosphere [Rouveyre] 17 r.)
* MS. ce p(er) qucssto si gienera infrallaria vna innondatione di tnstpareti
mi<voli la quale effacta datta p(f)edctta pioggia e tnquassta si fa mamfessta
mediante i liw&meti fatti dal disscieso dclla pioggia Che e vicina a]] ochio chc
la vede.* The words printed in Italics are wanting in the text as given by
Dr. Richter ( 669).
* Dr. Richter reads 'saranno* (for MS. 'sarrano'), but text is I think
* scorrano/ presumably for ' scorrono.*
3 The sentence within brackets is crossed through in the MS.
210 OF PERSPECTIVE
III PERSPECTIVE, AND LIGHT AND SHADE
Among the various studies of natural processes that of
light gives most pleasure to those who contemplate it ;
and among the noteworthy characteristics of mathema-
tical science the certainty of its demonstrations is what
operates most powerfully to elevate the minds of its
investigators. Perspective therefore is to be preferred
to all the formularies and systems of the schoolmen, for
in its province the complex beam of light is made to
show the stages of its development, wherein is found
the glory not only of mathematical but also of physical
science > adorned as it is with the flowers of both* And
whereas its propositions have been expanded with much
circumlocution I will epitomise them with conclusive
brevity, introducing, however, illustrations drawn either
from nature or from mathematical science according to
the nature of the subject, and sometimes deducing the
results from the causes and at other times the causes
from the results ; adding also to my conclusions some
which are not contained -in these, but which {nevertheless
are to be inferred from them ; even as the Lord who is
tfte Light of all things shall vouchsafe to reveal to me
who seek to interpret this light, and consequently I
will divide the present work into three parts.
(C. A. 203 r. a.)
PREAMBLE TO PERSPECTIVE CONCERNING THE
FUNCTION OF THE EYE
Consider now, O Reader, what trust can we place in
the ancients who have set out to define the nature of the
soul and of life, things incapable of proof, whilst
OF PERSPECTIVE *n
those things which by experience may always be clearly
known and proved have for so many centuries either
remained unknown or have been wrongly interpreted.
The eye which thus clearly offers proof of its func-
tions has even down to our own times been defined by
countless writers in one way, but I find by experience
that it acts in another. (C. A.n^v. a.)
Perspective is the bridle and rudder of painting.
(MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 13 r.)
Perspective is a rational demonstration whereby ex-
perience confirms how all things transmit their images to
the eye by pyramidal lines. By pyramidal lines I mean
those which start from the extremities of the surface of
bodies and by gradually converging from a distance
arrive at the same point ; the said point being, as I shall
show, in this i particular case located in the eye, which is
the universal judge of all objects. I call a point that
which cannot be divided up into any parts ; and as this
point which is situated in the eye is indivisible no body
can be seen by the eye which is not greater than this
point, and this being the case it is necessary that the
lines which extend from the object to the point should
be pyramidal. And if any one should wish to prove
that the faculty of sight does not belong to this point
but rather to that black spot which is seen in the centre
of the pupil, one might reply to him that a small object
never could diminish at any distance, as for example a
grain of millet or panic-seed or other similar thing, 'and
that this thing which was greater than the said point
could never be entirely seen. (A. 10 r.)
3i* OF PERSPECTIVE
The body of the atmosphere is full of an infinite
number of the pyramids composed of radiating straight
lines which are caused by the boundaries of the surfaces
of the bodies in shadow that are found there, and the
further they are away from the object which produces
them the more their angle becomes acute. And al-
though they intersect and interlace in their passage,
nevertheless they do not become confused with each
other but proceed with divergent course, spreading them-
selves out and becoming diffused through all the sur-
rounding air* And they are of equal power among
themselves, all equal to each, and each equal to all, and
by means of them are transmitted the images of the
objects, and these are transmitted all in all, and all in
each part ; and each pyramid receives of itself in each of
its smallest parts the whole form of the object which
produces it. (MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 6 >.)
OF THE ERROR MADE BY THOSE WHO PRACTISE
WITHOUT SCIENCE
Those who are enamoured of practice without science
are like a pilot who goes into a ship without rudder or
compass and never has any certainty where he is going.
Practice should always be based upon a sound know-
ledge of theory, of which perspective is the guide and
gateway, and without it nothing can be done well in any
kind of painting, (G S r.)
PERSPECTIVE
Of things of equal size that which is further away
from the eye will appear of less bulk. ($. K. M. //. 15 *.)
PLATE 9
BRAMBLE
(Riibus Fruttcosus)
Fact p. 211
OF LINEAR PERSPECTIVE ai 3
OF LINEAR PERSPECTIVE
Linear perspective has to do with the function of the
lines of sight, proving by measurement how much
smaller is the second object than the first and the third
than the second, and so on continually until the limit of
things seen. I find by experience that -if the second
object is as far distant from the first as the first is from
your eye, although as between themselves they may be
of equal size, the second will seem half as small again as
the first ; and if the third object is equal in size to the
second, and it is as far -beyond the second as the second
is from the first, 1 it will appear half the size of the
second ; and thus by successive degrees at equal dis-
tances the objects will be continually lessened by half,
the second being half the first, provided that the inter-
vening space does not amount to as much as twenty
braccia ; for at the distance of twenty braccia a figure
resembling yours will lose four-fifths of its size, and at
a distance of forty braccia it will lose nine-tenths, and
nineteen-twentieths at sixty braccia, and so by degrees
it will continue to diminish when the plane of the picture
is twice your own height away from you, for if the dis-
tance only equals your own height there is a great differ-
ence between the first braccia and the second.
(MS. 2038, Bil>. Nat. 23 r.)
OF AERIAL PERSPECTIVE
There is another kind of perspective which I call
aerial, because by the difference in the atmosphere one
i MS. has 'third/
214 OF AERIAL PERSPECTIVE
is able to distinguish the various distances of different
buildings when their bases appear to end on a single line,
for this would be the appearance presented by a group
of buildings on the far side of a wall, all of which as
seen above the top of the wall look to be the same size ;
and if in painting you wish to make one seem further
away than another you must make the atmosphere some-
what heavy. You know that in an atmosphere of uni-
form density the most distant things seen through it,
such as the mountains, in consequence of the great
quantity of atmosphere which is between your eye and
them, will appear blue, almost of the same colour as the
atmosphere when the sun is in the east. Therefore you
should make the building which is nearest above the
wall of its natural colour, and that which is more dis-
tant make less defined and bluer ; and one which you
wish should seem as far away again make of double the
depth of blue, and one you desire should seem five times
as far away make five times as blue. And as a conse-
quence of this rule it will come about that the buildings
which above a given line appear to be of the same size
will be pkinly distinguished as to which are the more
distant and which larger than the others.
(MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 25 *>.)
OF ORDINARY PERSPECTIVE
An object of uniform thickness and colour seen
against a background of various colours will appear not
to be of uniform thickness.
And if an object of uniform thickness and of various
OF PERSPECTIVE IN PAINTING 215
colours is seen against a background of uniform colour
the object will seem of a varying thickness.
And in proportion as the colours of the background,
or of the object seen against the background, have more
variety, the more will their thickness seem to vary,
although the objects seen against the background may
be of equal thickness. (/ 17 ?.)
A dark object seen against a light background will
seem smaller than it is.
A light object will appear greater in size when it is
seen against a background that is darker in colour.
(7i8r.)
THE PERSPECTIVE OF THE DISAPPEARANCE OF THE
OUTLINES OF OPAQUE BODIES
If the true outlines of opaque bodies become indistin-
guishable at any short distance they will be still more in-
visible at great distances ; and since it is by the outlines
that the true shape of each opaque body becomes known,
whenever because of distance we lack the perception of
the whole we shall lack yet more the perception of its
parts and outlines. (j? 80 r.)
OF THE REQUISITES OF PAINTING
The first requisite of painting is that the bodies which
it represents should appear in relief, and that the scenes
which surround them with effects of distance should
seem to enter into the plane in which the picture is
produced by means of the three parts of perspective,
namely the diminution in the distinctness of the form of
bodies, the diminution in their size, and the diminution
2x6 HOW THE AIR IS FULL OF IMAGES
in their colour. Of these three divisions of perspective
the first has its origin in the eye, the two others are
derived from the atmosphere that is interposed between
the eye and the objects which the eye beholds.
The second requisite of painting is that the actions
should be appropriate and have a variety in the figures
so that the men may not all look as though they were
brothers. * (79 *)
PERSPECTIVE
The air is full of an infinite number of images of the
things which are distributed through it, and all of these
are represented in all, all in one, and all in each. Con-
sequently it so happens that if two mirrors be placed
so as to be exactly facing each other, the first will be
reflected in the second and the second in the first. Now
the first being reflected in the second carries to it its
own image together with all the images which are re-
presented in it, among these being the image of the
second mirror ; and so they continue from image to
image on to infinity, in such a way that each mirror
has an infinite number of mirrors within it, each smaller
than the kst, and one inside another.
By this example, therefore, it is clearly proved that
each thing transmits the image of [itself] to all those
places where the thing itself is visible, and so conversely
this object is able to receive into itself all the images of
the things which are in front of it.
Consequently the eye transmits its own image through
the air to all the objects which are in front of it, and
receives them into itself, that is on its surface, whence
HOW THE AIR IS FULL OF IMAGES 217
the understanding takes them and considers them, and
such as it finds pleasing these it commits to the memory.
So I hold that the invisible powers of the images in
the eyes may project themselves forth to the object as
do the images of the object to the eye.
An instance of how the images of all things are
spread thrpugh the air may be seen in a number of
mirrors placed in a circle, and they will then reflect each
other for an infinite number of times, for as the image
of one reaches another it rebounds back to its source,
and then becoming less rebounds yet again to the ob-
ject, and then returns, and so continues for an infinite
number of times.
If at night you place a light between two flat mirrors
which are a cubit's space apart, you will see in each of
these mirrors an infinite number of lights one smaller
than another in succession.
If at night you place a light between the walls of a
[room], every part of these walls will become tinged by
the images of this light, and all those parts which are
exposed to the light will likewise be directly lit by it ;
that is when there is no obstacle between them to inter-
rupt the transmission of the images.
This same example is even more apparent in the
transmission of solar rays, which all i[pass] through all
objects, and consequently into each minutest part of
each object, and each ray of itself conveys to its object
the image of its source.
That each body alone of itself fills the whole sur-
rounding air with its images, and that this same air is
[able] at the same time to receive into itself the images
2x8 OF DIMINUTION IN PERSPECTIVE
of the countless other bodies which are within it is
clearly shown by these instances, and each body is seen
in its entirety throughout the whole of the said atmo-
sphere and each in each minutest part of the same, and
all throughout the whole of it and all in each minutest
part ; each in all, and all in every part. (C. A. 138 r. ^.)
OF PAINTING AND PERSPECTIVE
There are three divisions of perspective as employed
in painting. Of these the first relates to the diminution
in the volume of opaque bodies ; the second treats of
the diminution and disappearance of the outlines of
these opaque bodies ; the third is of their diminution
and loss of colour when at a great distance.
OF THE PERSPECTIVE OF THE DIMINUTION OF
OPAQUE BODIES
Among opaque bodies of equal magnitude the
diminution apparent in their size will vary according
to their distance from the eye which sees them ; but it
will be in inverse proportion, for at the greater distance
the opaque body appears less, and at a less distance
this body will appear greater, and on this is founded
linear perspective. And show secondly how every
object at a great distance loses first that portion of
itself which is the thinnest. Thus with a horse, it
would lose the legs sooner than the head because the
legs are thinner than the head, and it would lose the
neck before the trunk for the same reason. It follows
OF THE ORDER OF DIMINUTION 219
therefore that the part of the horse which the eye
will be able last to discern will be the trunk, retaining
still its oval form, but rather approximating to the shape
'of a cylinder, and it will lose its thickness sooner than its
length from the second conclusion aforesaid. If the eye
is immovable the perspective terminates its distance in
a point ; but if the eye moves in a straight line the
perspective ends in a line, because it is proved that
the line is produced by the movement of the point,
and our sight is fixed upon the point, and consequently
it follows that as the sight moves the point moves, and
as the point moves the line is produced. (E So v.)
In every figure placed at a great distance you lose
first the knowledge of its most minute parts and preserve
to the last that of the larger parts, losing, however,
the perception of all their extremities, and'they become
oval or spherical in shape, and their boundaries are
indistinct. (G 53 v.)
Having, as I think, sufficiently treated of the natures
and different characteristics of primary and derived
shadows and the manner of their incidence, it seems
to me that the time has now come to explain the
different results upon the various surfaces which are
touched by these shadows.
SHADOW IS THE WITHHOLDING OF LIGHT
It seems to me that the shadows are of supreme
importance in perspective, seeing that without them
opaque and solid bodies will be indistinct, both as to
320 OF PRIMARY AND DERIVED SHADOWS
what lies within their boundaries and also as to their
boundaries themselves, unless these are seen against a
background differing in colour ro that of the substance ;
and consequently in the first proposition I treat of
shadows, and say in this connection that every opaque
body is surrounded and has its surface clothed with,
shadows and lights, and to this 1 devote the first book.
Moreover these shadows are in themselves of varying
degrees of darkness because they are caused by the
absence of a variable quantity of luminous rays ; and
these I call primary shadows, because they are the first
shadows and so form a covering to the bodies to which
they attach themselves, and to this I shall devote the
second book. From these primary shadows there issue
certain dark rays which are diffused throughout the air
and vary in intensity according to the varieties of the
primary shadows from which they are derived ; and con-
sequently I call these shadows derived shadows, because
they have their origin in other shadows ; and of this I
will make the third book. Moreover these derived
shadows in striking upon anything create as many
different effects as are the different places where they
strike ; and of this I will make the fourth book. And
since where the derived shadow strikes, it is always
surrounded by the striking of the luminous rays, it
leaps back with these in a reflex stream towards its
source and meets the primary shadow, and mingles with
and becomes changed into it, altering thereby somewhat
of its nature ; and to this I will devote the fifth book.
In addition to this I will make the sixth book to contain
an investigation of the many different varieties of the
OF THEIR INCIDENCE 221
rebound of the reflected rays which will modif) the
primary shadow by as many different colours as there
are different points from whence these luminous reflected
rays proceed. Further, I will make the seventh division
treat of the various distances that may exist between the
point of striking of each reflected ray and the point from
whence it proceeds, and of the various different shades
of colour which it acquires in striking against opaque
bodies. (C. A. 250, r. a.)
OF PAINTING
Shadows and lights are observed by the eye under
three aspects. One of these is when the eye and the
light are both on the same side of the body which is
seen ; the second is when the eye is in front of the
object and the light behind it ; and the third is that in
which the eye is in front of the object and the light at
the side, in such a way that when the line which extends
from the object to the eye meets that which extends
from the object to the light, they will at their junction 1
form a right angle. (K 105 [25] v.)
OF SHADOW
Where the shadow is bounded by light, note carefully
where it is lighter or darker, and where it is more or
less indistinct towards the light ; and above all I would
remind you that in youthful figures you should not
make the shadows end like stone, for the flesh retains
a slight transparency, as may be observed by looking at
1 MS* cOgtttiO, and so Dr. Richter. M. Ravaisson-Mollien has ' cognition/
222 OF DISTANT OBJECTS
a hand held between the eye and the sun, when it is
seen to flush red and to be of a luminous transparency.
And let the part which is brightest in colour be between
the lights and the shadows. And if you wish to see
what depth of shadow is needed for the flesh, cast a
shadow over it with your finger, and according as you
wish it to be lighter or darker, hold your finger nearer
or farther away from the picture, and then copy this
shadow. (MS. 2038, Bit. Nat. 31 *.)
HOW SMALL FIGURES OUGHT CONSEQUENTLY TO BE
LEFT UNFINISHED
I say that when objects appear of minute size, it is
due to the said objects being at a distance from the
eye ; and when this is the case, there must of necessity
be a considerable quantity of atmosphere between the
eye and the object, and this atmosphere interferes
with the distinctness of the form of the objects, and
consequently the minute details of these bodies will
become indistinguishable and unrecognisable. There-
fore, O painter, you should make your lesser figures
only suggested, and not highly finished ; for if you
do otherwise, you will produce effects contrary to those
of nature, your mistress.
The object is small because of the great space which
exists between the eye and it. This great space contains
within itself a great quantity of atmosphere ; and this
atmosphere forms of itself a dense body which interposes
and shuts out from the eye the minute details of the
objects. (MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 31 *.)
OF FACES IN DISTANCE 22$
PAINTING
Among shadows of equal strength that which is
nearest to the eye will seem of least density.
(MS. 2038. Btt. Nat. 9 v.)
The derived shadow is stronger in proportion as it is
nearer to its source. (K in [31] p.)
Primary and derived shadow is deeper when it is caused
by the light of the candle than by that of the atmosphere.
(7r. Tav. 24 a.)
OF PAINTING
Shadows which you see with difficulty, and whose
boundaries you cannot define, but which you only
apprehend and reproduce in your work with some hesi-
tation of judgment these you should not represent as
finished or sharply defined, for the result would be that
your work would seem wooden. (MS. 2038, Bil>. Nat. 14 .)
WHY FACES AT A DISTANCE APPEAR DARK
We see clearly that all the images of the visible things
both large and small which serve us as objects enter to
the sense through the tiny pupil of the eye. If, then,
through so small an entrance there passes the image
of the immensity of the sky and of the earth, the face
of man being almost nothing amid such vast images
of things, because of the distance which diminishes it
occupies so little of the pupil as to remain indistinguish-
able ; and having to pass from the outer surface to
the seat of the sense through a dark medium, that is,
224 OF FIGURES IN DISTANCE
through the hollow cells which appear dark, this image
when not of a strong colour is affected by the darkness
through which it passes, and on reaching the seat of the
sense it appears dark. No other reason can be advanced
to account for the blackness of this point in the pupil ;
and since it is filled with a moisture transparent like the
air, it acts like a hole made in a board ; and when looked
into it appears black, and the objects seen in the air,
whether light or dark, become indistinct in the darkness.
OF SHADOWS IN THE FAR DISTANCE
Shadows become lost in the far distance, because the
vast expanse of luminous atmosphere which lies between
the eye and the object seen suffuses the shadows of the
object with its own colour.
WHY A MAN SEEN AT A CERTAIN DISTANCE CANNOT
BE RECOGNISED
Diminishing perspective shows us that in proportion
as an object is further away the smaller it becomes* And
if you look at a man who is at the distance of a bowshot
away from you and put the eye of a small needle close
to your eye you will be able through this to see the
images of many men transmitted to the eye, and these
will all be contained at one and the same time within
the eye of the said needle. If then the image of a man
who is distant from you the space of a bowshot is so
transmitted to your eye as to occupy only a small part
of the eye of a needle, how should you be able in so
small a figure to distinguish or discern the nose or
OF PERSPECTIVE 225
mouth or any detail of the body? And not seeing
these you cannot recognise the man since he does not
show you the features which cause men to differ in
appearance. (MS. 2038, JW. Nat. 20 v.)
OF PAINTING
The true knowledge of the form of an object becomes
gradually lost in proportion as distance decreases its
size. (C. A. 176 v. &)
WHY OF TWO OBJECTS OF EQUAL SIZE THE PAINTED
ONE WILL LOOK LARGER THAN THAT IN RELIEF
This proposition is not so easy to expound as many
others, but I will nevertheless attempt to prove it, if
not completely, then in part. Diminishing perspective
demonstrates by reason that objects diminish in propor-
tion as they are farther away from the eye, and this
theory is entirely confirmed by experience. Now the
lines of sight which are between the object and the eye
when they reach the surface of the painting are all
intersected at a uniform boundary ;, while the lines which
pass from the eye to the piece of sculpture have different
boundaries and are of varying lengths. The line which
is the longest extends to a limb which is farther away
than the rest, and consequently this limb appears
smaller ; and there are many lines longer than others,
for the reason that there are many small parts one
farther away than another, and being farther away these
of necessity appear smaller, and by appearing smaller
they effect a corresponding decrease in the whole mass
2*6 OF REFLECTION
of the object. But this does not happen in the painting,
because as the lines of sight end at the same distance it
follows that they do not undergo diminution, and as the
parts are not themselves diminished they do not lessen
the whole mass of the object, and consequently the
diminution is not perceptible in the painting as it is in
sculpture. (MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 19 r.)
OF REFLECTION
Reflections are caused by bodies of a bright nature
and of a smooth and half opaque surface, which when
struck by the light drive it back again to the first object
like the rebound of a ball.
OF WHERE THERE CANNOT BE LUMINOUS REFLECTION
All solid bodies have their surfaces covered by various
degrees of light and shadow. The lights are of two
kinds; the one is called original, the other derived.
Original I call that which proceeds from the flame of the
fire, or from the light of the sun, or of the atmosphere.
Derived light is the light reflected. But to return to
the promised definition I say that there is no luminous
reflection on the side of the body which is turned
towards objects in shadow such as shaded scenes,
meadows with grasses of varying height, green or bare
woods for these, although the part of each branch
turned to the original light is imbued with the attributes
of this light, have nevertheless so many shadows cast by
each branch separately, and so many shadows cast by one
branch on another that in the whole mass there results
OF SHADOWS AND LIGHTS 227
such a depth of shadow that the light is as nothing ;
hence objects such as these cannot throw any reflected
light upon bodies opposite to them.
(MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 14 p.)
That place will be most luminous which is farthest
away from mountains. (H 68 [20] r.)
PERSPECTIVE
The shadows or reflections of things seen in moving
water, that is to say with tiny waves, will always be
greater than the object outside the water which causes
them. (H 76 [28] *>.)
The atmosphere is blue because of the darkness which
is above it, for black and white together make blue.
(#77 [29]*.)
The part of the cloud which is nearest to the eye will
seem swifter than that which is higher ; and for this
reason they often appear to be moving in contrary
directions, one to the other. (H 89 [41] r.)
OF PAINTING
The high lights or the lustre of any particular object
will not be situated in the centre of the illuminated part,
but will make as many changes of position as the eye
that beholds it. (H 90 [4*] *.)
HOW WHITE BODIES OUGHT TO BE REPRESENTED
When you are representing a white body surrounded
by ample space, since the white has no colour in itself it
is tinged and in part transformed by the colour of what
2*8 OF THE TREATMENT OF WHITE BODIES
is set over against it. If you are looking at a woman
dressed in white in the midst of a landscape the side of
her that is exposed to the sun will be so dazzling in
colour that parts of it, like the sun itself, will cause pain
to the sight, and as for the side exposed to the atmosphere
which is luminous because of the rays of the sun being
interwoven with it and penetrating it since this atmo-
sphere is itself blue, the side of the woman which is
exposed to it will appear steeped in blue. If the surface
of the ground near to her be meadows, and the woman be
placed between a meadow lit by the sun and the sun
itself you will find that all the parts of the folds [of her
dress] which are turned towards the meadow will be
dyed by the reflected rays to the colour of the meadow ;
and thus she becomes changed into the colours of the
objects near, both those luminous and those non-
luminous. (MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 20 r.)
OF COLOURS
Of colours of equal whiteness that will seem most
dazzling which is on the darkest background, and black
will seem most intense when it is against a background
of greater whiteness.
Red also will seem most vivid when against a yellow
background, and so in like manner with all the colours
when set against those which present the sharpest con-
trast, (c. A. 184*. c.)
PAINTING
Since white is not a colour but is capable of becoming
the recipient of every colour, when a white object is seen
OF COLOURS 229
in the open air all its shadows are blue ; and this comes
about in accordance with the fourth proposition, which
says that : 'the surface of every opaque body partakes
of the colour of surrounding objects/ As therefore this
white object is deprived of the light of the sun by the
interposition of some object which comes between
the sun and it, all that portion of it which is exposed
to the sun and the atmosphere, continues to partake of
the colour of the sun and the atmosphere, and that part
which is not exposed to the sun remains in shadow, and
only partakes of the colour of the atmosphere. And if this
white object should neither reflect the green of the fields
which stretch out to the horizon nor yet face the bright-
ness of the horizon itself, it would undoubtedly appear of
such simple colour as the atmosphere showed itself to be.
OF PAINTING
The colour of the object illuminated partakes of the
colour of that which illuminates it. (37 r.)
The colours of the middle of the rainbow mingle with
each other.
The bow itself is neither in the rain nor in the eye that
sees it, although it is produced by the rain, the sun, and
the eye,
The rainbow is invariably seen by the eye which is
situated between the rain and the body of the sun, and
consequently when the sun is in the east and the rain in
the west the rainbow is produced upon the western rain.
(E ewer i v.)
230 OF COLOUR IN PERSPECTIVE
HOW THE PAINTER OUGHT TO PRACTISE HIMSELF
IN THE PERSPECTIVE OF COLOURS
As a means of practising this perspective of the varia-
tion and loss or diminution of the proper essence of
colours, take at distances a hundred braccia apart ob-
jects standing in the landscape, such as trees, houses,
men, and places, and in front of the first tree fix a
piece of glass so that it is quite steady, and then let
your eye rest upon it and trace out a tree upon the glass
above the outline of the tree ; and afterwards remove
the glass so far to one side that the actual tree seems
almost to touch the one that you have drawn. Then
colour your drawing in such a way that the two are
alike in colour and form, and that if you close one eye
both seem painted on the glass and the same distance
away. Then proceed in the same way with a second and
a third tree at distances of a hundred braccia from each
other. And these will always serve as your standards
and teachers when you are at work on pictures where
they can be applied, and they will cause the work to
be successful in its distance. But I find that it is a rule
that the second is reduced to four-fifths the size of the
first when it is twenty braccia distant from it.
(MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. ^^ v.)
OF PAINTING
The outlines and forms of each part of bodies in
shadow are poorly distinguished in their shadows and
lights, but in such parts as are between the lights and
shadows parts of these bodies are of the first degree of
distinctness. (G 32 r.)
OF OUTLINES AND LIGHTS 231
THE BOUNDARIES OF BODIES ARE THE LEAST OF
ALL THINGS
The truth of this proposition is proved by the fact
that the boundary of the substance is a surface, which
is neither a part of the body enclosed by this surface
nor a part of the atmosphere which surrounds this body,
but is the medium interposed between the atmosphere
and the body, as is proved in its place. But the lateral
boundaries of these bodies are the boundary line of
the surface, which line is of invisible thickness. There-
fore, O painter, do not surround your bodies with lines,
and especially when making objects less than their
natural size, for these not only cannot show their lateral
boundaries, but their parts will be invisible from dis-
tance. (G 37 r.)
OF LIGHTS
The lights which illumine opaque bodies are of four
kinds, that is to say universal as that of the atmosphere
within our horizon, and particular like that of the sun or
of a window or door or other space ; and the third is
reflected light ; and there is also a fourth which passes
through substances of the degree of transparency of linen
or paper or such like things, but not those transparent like
glass or crystal or other diaphanous bodies with which
the effect is the same as if there was nothing interposed
between the body in shadow and the light that illumines
it ; and of these we shall treat separately in our discourse.
(C 3
23* OF THE EFFECT OF ATMOSPHERE
OF THE ATMOSPHERE INTERPOSED BETWEEN THE
EYE AND THE VISIBLE OBJECT
The object will appear more or less distinct at the
same distance in proportion as the atmosphere inter-
posed between the eye and this object is of greater ofc
less clearness. Since therefore you are aware that the
greater or less quantity of atmosphere interposed be-
tween the eye and the object causes the outlines of these
objects to seem more or less blurred to the eye, you
should represent the stages of loss of definiteness of
these bodies in the same proportion to each other as
that of their distances from the eye of the beholder.
(E 79 0.)
HOW THE CONDITION OF THE ATMOSPHERE AFFECTS
THE LIGHTS AND SHADOWS
That body will present the strongest contrast between
its lights and shadows which is seen by the strongest
light, such as the light of the sun or at night by the
light of a fire ; but this should rarely be employed in
painting because the works will remain hard and devoid
of grace.
A body which is in a moderate light will have but
little difference between its lights and shadows ; and
this comes to pass at the fall of the evening, or when
there are clouds : works painted then are soft in feeling
and every kind of face acquires a charm. Thus in
every way extremes are injurious. Excess of light
makes things seem hard; 1 and too much darkness
1 MS. has *il tropo lume fa crudo.* So also Dr. Richter. The text of
M. Ravaisson-Mollien in place of * fa crudo ' has facendo/
OF LIGHTS 233
does not admit of our seeing them. The mean is
excellent.
OF SMALL LIGHTS
The lights cast from small windows also present a
strong contrast of light and shadow, more especially if
the chamber lit by them is large ; and this is not good
to use in painting. (MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 33 *.)
AT WHAT HEIGHT THE LIGHT SHOULD BE IN ORDER
TO DRAW FROM NATURE
When you are drawing from nature the light should
be from the north, so that it may not vary ; and if
it is from the south keep the window covered with a
curtain so that though the sun shine upon it all day long
the light will undergo no change. The elevation of the
light should be such that each body casts a shadow on
the ground which is of the same length as its height.
(MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 33 r.)
WHY BEAUTIFUL COLOURS SHOULD BE IN THE LIGHTS
Since we see that the quality of colours becomes
known by means of light, it is to be inferred that where
there is most light there the true quality of the colour so
illuminated will be most visible, and where there is most
shadow there the colour will be most affected by the
colour of the shadow. Therefore, O painter, be mindful
to show the true quality of the colours in the parts
which are in light. (MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 33 r.)
*34 OF ARRANGEMENT OF LIGHT
HOW ONE OUGHT TO ARRANGE THE LIGHT UPON
FIGURES
The disposition of the light should be in harmony
with the natural conditions under which you represent
your figure ; that is if you are representing it in sun-
light, make the shadows dark with great spaces of light,
and mark the shadows of all the surrounding bodies and
their shadows upon the ground- If you represent it in
dull weather, make only a slight difference between the
lights and the shadows, and do not make any other
shadow at the feet. If you represent it within doors,
make a strong difference between the lights and shadows
and show the shadow on the ground.
And if you represent a window covered by a curtain
and the wall white there should be little difference be-
tween the lights and shadows. If it is lit by a fire you
should make the lights ruddy and powerful and the
shadows dark ; and where the shadows strike the walls or
the floor should be sharply defined, and the farther away
they extend from the body the broader and larger should
they become. And if it be lit in part by the fire and
in part by the atmosphere, make the part lit by the
atmosphere the stronger, and let that lit by the fire be
almost as red as fire itself. And above all let the figures
that you paint have sufficient light and from above, that
is all living persons whom you paint, for the people whom
you see in the streets are all lighted from above ; and I
would have you know that you have no acquaintance
so intimate but that if the light fell on him from below
you would find it difficult to recognise him.
(MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 33 r.)
OF LIGHT AND SHADE 235
OF THE JUDGMENT THAT YOU OUGHT TO PASS UPON
THE WORK OF A PAINTER
First you should consider the figures whether they
have the relief which their position requires, and the
light that illuminates them 3 so that the shadows may not
be the same at the extremities of the composition as in
the centre, because it is one thing for a figure to be
surrounded by shadows, and another for it to have the
shadows only on one side. Those figures are surrounded
by shadows which are towards the centre of the com-
position, because they are shaded by the dark figures
interposed between them and the light ; and those are
shaded on one side only which are interposed between
the light and the main group, for where they do not
face the light they face the group, and there they repro-
duce the darkness cast by this group, and where they
do not face the group they face the brightness of the
light, and there they reproduce its radiance.
Secondly, you should consider whether the distribution
or arrangement of the figures is devised in agreement
with the conditions you desire the action to represent.
Thirdly, whether the figures are actively engaged on
their purpose. (G 19 r.)
OF THE LIGHTS ON THE LOWER EXTREMITIES OF BODIES
PACKED TIGHTLY TOGETHER SUCH AS MEN IN
BATTLE
Of men and horses labouring in battle the different
parts should be darker in proportion as they are closer
to the ground on which they are supported ; and this is
236 OF LIGHT AND SHADE
proved from the sides of wells, which become darker in
proportion to their depth, this being due to the fact that
the lowest part of the well sees and is seen by a lesser
amount of the luminous atmosphere than any other part
of it. And the pavements when they are the same
colour as the legs of the men and horses will always
seem in higher light within equal angles than will these
same legs. (G 15 r.)
OF SITUATION
Take careful note of the situation of your figures, for
you will have the light and shade different if the object
is in a dark place with a particular light, and if it is in a
bright place with the direct light of the sun, and different
also if it is in a dark place with the diffused light of
evening or in dull weather, and if it is in the diffused
light of the atmosphere lit by the sun.
(<? 33 *)
OF SHADOWS AND LIGHTS
You, who reproduce the works of nature, behold the
dimensions, the degrees of intensity, and the forms of
the lights and shadows of each muscle, and observe in
the lengths of their figures towards which muscle they
are directed by the axis of their central lines*
( 3 r.)
IV. LANDSCAPE
OF CITIES OR OTHER BUILDINGS SEEN IN THE EVENING
OR MORNING IN THE MIST
Buildings seen at a great distance in the evening or
morning through mist or heavy atmosphere, have only
OF MORNING LIGHT 237
such portions in light as are illuminated by the sun
which is then near the horizon, and the parts of these
buildings which are not exposed to the sun remain almost
the same dim neutral colour as the mist. (E 3 *.)
OF TREES IN THE SOUTH
When the sun is in the east, the trees in the south
and north are almost as much in light as in shadow, but
the total amount in light is greater in proportion as they
are more to the west, and the total amount in shadow
is greater in proportion as they are more to the east.
OF MEADOWS
When the sun is in the east, the grasses in the
meadows and the other small plants are of a most
brilliant green, because they are transparent to the sun.
This does not happen with the meadows in the west,
and in those in the south and north, the grasses are of a
moderate brilliance in their green. (G 20 *.)
THE ASPECTS OF LANDSCAPES
When the sun is in the east, all the parts of trees
which are illuminated by it are of a most brilliant green ;
and this is due to the fact that the leaves illuminated by
the sun within half our hemisphere, namely the eastern
half, are transparent ; while within the western semicircle
the verdure has a sombre hue and the air is damp and
heavy, of the colour of dark ashes, so that it is not
transparent like that in the east, which is refulgent, and
the more so as it is more full of moisture.
238 OF MORNING LIGHT
The shadows of the trees in the east cover a large
part of the tree, and they are darker in proportion as the
trees are thicker with leaves. (G 21 r.)
OF TREES IN THE EAST
When the sun is in the east, the trees seen towards
the east will have the light surrounding them all around
their shadows, except towards the earth, unless the tree
has been pruned in the previous year ; and the trees in
the south and in the north will be half in shadow and
half in light, and more or less in shadow or in light
according as they are more or less to the east or to
the west.
The fact of the eye being high or low causes a
variation in the shadows and lights of trees, for when
the eye is above, it sees the trees with very little shadow,
and when below with a great deal of shadow.
The different shades of green of plants are as varied
as are their species. (G 21 v.)
OF THE SHADOWS OF TREES
When the sun is in the east, the trees towards the
west will appear to the eye with very little relief and
of almost imperceptible gradation, on account of the
atmosphere which lies very thick between the eye and
these trees, according to the seventh [part] of this
[treatise] ; and they are deprived of shadow, for although
a shadow exists in each part of the ramification, it so
happens that the images of shadow and light which come
to the eye are confused and blended together, and cannot
OF MORNING LIGHT 239
be discerned through the smallness of their size. And
the highest lights are in the centre of the trees and
the shadows are towards their extremities, and their
separation is marked by the shadows in the spaces
between these trees when the forests are dense with
trees ; and in those which are more scattered the con-
tours are but little seen. (G 22 r.)
OF TREES IN THE EAST
When the sun is in the east, the trees in that quarter
are dark towards the centre and their edges are in light.
OF THE SMOKE OF CITIES
The smoke is seen better and more distinctly in the
eastern than in the western quarter when the sun is
in the east. This is due to two causes; the first is
that the sun shines through the particles of this smoke
with its rays* and lightens these up and renders them
visible ; the second is that the roofs of the houses seen
in the east at this hour are in shadow, because their
slope prevents them from being lighted by the sun ; the
same happens with the dust, and both the one and the
other are more charged with light in proportion as they
are thicker, and they are thickest towards the middle.
(G 22 *.)
OF SMOKE AND OUST
When the sun is in the east, the smoke of cities will
not be visible in the west, because it is neither seen
penetrated by the solar rays nor against a daric back-
ground, since the roofs of the houses turn the same side
* 4 o OF COLOUR IN LANDSCAPE
to the eye that they show to the sun, and against this
bright background the smoke will be scarcely visible.
But dust when seen under the same conditions will
appear darker than smoke, because it is thicker in
substance than smoke which is made up of vapour.
(G 23 r.)
OF SHADOWS AND LIGHTS ON CITIES
When the sun is in the east and the eye is looking
down upon a city from above, the eye will see the
southern part of the city, with its roofs half in shadow
and half in light, and so also with the northern part ;
but the eastern part will be all in shadow and the
western part all in light. (G 19 v.)
OF PAINTING
Of the various colours other than blue, that which
at a great distance will resemble blue most closely, will
be that which is nearest to black, and so conversely
the colour which least resembles black will be the one
which at a great distance will most retain its natural
colour.
Accordingly the green in landscapes will become more
changed into blue than will the yellow or the whhe, and
so conversely the yellow and the white will undergo less
change than the green, and the red still less.
(* 75 *.)
OF LANDSCAPES
The dark colours of the shadows of mountains at a
great distance take a more beautiful and purer blue than
do those parts which are in light, and from this it follows
OF LANDSCAPE IN WINTER 241
that when the rock of the mountains is reddish, the
parts of it which are in light are fawn-coloured, and the
more brightly it is illuminated the more closely will it
retain its natural colour. (7 48 r.)
PAINTING
The landscapes which occur in representations of
winte^ should not show the mountains blue as one sees
them in summer, and this is proved by the fourth part of
this [chapter], where it is stated that of the mountains
seen at a great distance that will seem a deeper blue in
colour which is in itself darker ; for when the trees are
stripped of their leaves they look grey in colour, and
when they are with their leaves they are green, and in
proportion as the green is darker than the grey, the green
will appear a more intense blue than the grey ; and by
the fifth part of this [chapter], the shadows of trees
which are clad with leaves are as much darker than the
shadows pf those trees which are stripped of leaves as the
trees dad with leaves are denser than those without
leaves ; and thus we have established our proposition.
The definition of the blue colour of the atmosphere
supplies the reason why landscapes are a deeper shade of
blue in summer than in winter. (E 19 r .)
OF HOW TO PAINT WIND
In representing wind, in addition to showing the
bending of the 'boughs and the inverting of their leaves
at the approach of the wind, you should represent the
clouds of fine dust mingled with the troubled air.
(E 6 v.)
2 4 2 OF TREES
OF HOW TO DEPICT A WILD LANDSCAPE
Those trees and shrubs which are more split up into
a quantity of thin branches ought to have less density of
shadow. The tree and the shrubs which have larger leaves
cast a greater shadow. (MS. 2038, B&. Nat. 31 *.)
OF TREES AND THEIR LIGHT
The true method of practice in representing country
scenes, or I should say landscapes with their trees, is to
choose them when the sun in the sky is hidden, so that
the fields receive a diffused light and not the direct light
of the sun, for this makes the shadows sharply defined
and very different from the lights. (G n v.)
OF TREES
What outlines do trees show at a distance against the
atmosphere which serves as their background? The
outlines of the structure of trees against the luminous
atmosphere as they are more remote approach the
spherical more closely in their shape, and as they are
nearer so they display a greater divergence from the
spherical form. So the first tree a l as being near to the
eye displays the true form of its ramification, but this is
somewhat less visible in , and disappears altogether in f ,
where not only can none of the branches of the tree be
seen, but the whole tree can only be recognised with
great difficulty.
Every object in shadow, be it of whatever shape you
please, will at a great distance appear to be spherical ;
and this occurs because if an object be rectangular, then at
1 MS. contains a dutch of a row of trees seen in perspective.
PLATE 10
GROVE OF SILVER BIRCHES
Fait f>. 24.Z
OF TREES *43
a very short distance its angles become invisible, and a
little farther off it loses more than it retains of the lesser
sides, and so before losing the whole it loses the parts, since
these are less than the whole. So with a man when so
situated you lose sight of the legs, arms, and head, before
the trunk, and then the extremities of the length become
lost before those of the breadth, and when these have
become equal there would be a square 1 if the angles
remained, but as they are lost there is a sphere. (G 26 r.)
HOW ONE SHOULD REPRESENT LANDSCAPES
Landscapes ought to be represented so that the trees
are half in light and half in shadow ; but it is better to
make them when the sun is covered in clouds, for titan
the trees are lighted up by the general light of the sky
and the general shadow of the earth ; and these are so
much darker in their parts in proportion as these parts
are nearer to the middle of the tree and to the earth.
(G 19 *.)
OF TREES WHICH ARE ILLUMINATED BY THE SUN, OR
BY THE ATMOSPHERE
The trees illuminated by the sun and by the atmo-
sphere which have leaves of a dark colour will be illumi-
nated on one side by the atmosphere alone, and in
consequence of being thus illuminated will share its
blueness ; and on the opposite side they will be illuminated
both by the atmosphere and the sun, and the part which
the eye sees illuminated by the sun will be resplendent.
(G 28 r.)
1 I have followed Dr. Richter in interpreting a tiny figure in the text as a
square, M. Ravaisson-Mollien reads it as <d.'
244 OF TREES
OF THE SHADOWS OF VERDURE
The shadows of verdure always approximate to blue,
and so it is with every shadow of every other thing, and
they tend to this colour more entirely when they are
further distant from the eye, and less in proportion as
they are nearer.
The leaves which reflect the blue of the atmosphere
always present themselves edgewise to the eye.
OF THE ILLUMINATED PARTS OF VERDURE AND OF
MOUNTAINS
The part illuminated will show more of its natural
colour at great distance when it is illuminated by the
most powerful light. (G 15 r.)
In the representation of trees in leaf be careful not to
repeat the same colour too often for a tree which has
another tree of the same colour as its background, but
vary it by making the foliage lighter or darker or of a
more vivid green. (G 27 *.)
The extremities of the branches of trees if not dragged
down by the weight of their fruit turn towards the sky
as much as possible.
The upper sides of their leaves are turned towards
the sky in order to receive nourishment from the dew
that falls by night.
The sun gives spirit and life to plants and the earth
nourishes them with moisture. In this connection I
once made the experiment of leaving only one small
root on a gourd and keeping this nourished with water ;
OF PLANTS 245
and the gourd brought to perfection all the fruits that
it could produce, which were about sixty gourds of the
long species ; and I set myself diligently to consider the
source of its life, and I perceived that it was the dew of
the night which steeped it abundantly with its moisture
through the joints of its great leaves, and thereby
nourished the tree and its offspring, or rather the seeds
which were to produce its offspring.
The rule as to the leaves produced on the last of the
year's branches is that on twin branches they will grow
in a contrary direction, that is, that the leaves in their
earliest growth turn themselves round towards the branch
in such a way that the sixth leaf above grows over the
sixth leaf below ; and the manner of their turning is
that if one turns towards its fellow on the right, the
other turns to the left.
The leaf serves as a breast to nourish the branch or
fruit which grows in the succeeding year. (G 31 * .)
OF THE PLANTS OF THE FIELDS
Of the plants which take their shadows from the trees
which grow among them, those which are in front of the
shadow have their stalks lighted up against a back-
gijpund of shadow, and the plants which are in shadow
teve their stalks dark against a light background, that
is against a background which is beyond the shadow.
OF THE TREES WHICH ARE BETWEEN THE EYE AND
THE LIGHT
Of the trees which are between the eye and the light,
the part in front will be bright, and this brightness will
246 OF FOLIAGE
be diversified by the ramification of the transparent
leaves as seen from the tinder side, with the shining
leaves seen from the right side, and in the background,
below and behind, the verdure will be dark, because it is
cast in shadow by the front part of the said tree ; and
this occurs in trees which are higher than the eye.
(G 9 *.)
OF DARK LEAVES IN FRONT OF TRANSPARENT ONES
When the leaves are interposed between the light and
the eye, then that which is nearest to the eye will be the
darkest, and that farthest away will be the lightest, if
they are not seen against the atmosphere ; and this
happens with leaves which are beyond the centre of the
tree, that is in the direction of the light. (G 10 ?.)
OF THE LIGHTS ON DARK LEAVES
The lights on such leaves as are darkest in colour will
most closely resemble the colour of the atmosphere re-
flected in them ; and this is due to the fact that "the
brightness of the illuminated part mingling with the
darkness forms of itself a blue colour ; and this bright-
ness proceeds from the blue of the atmosphere which is
reflected in the smooth surface of these leaves, thereby
adding to the blueness which this light usually produces
when it falls upon dark objects.
OF THE LIGHTS ON LEAVES OF YELLOWISH GREEN
But leaves of yellowish green do not when they reflect
the atmosphere create a reflection which verges on blue ;
for every object when seen in a mirror takes in part the
OF FOLIAGE 247
colour of this mirror ; therefore the blue of the atmo-
sphere reflected in the yellow of the leaf appears green,
because blue and yellow mixed together form a most
brilliant green, and therefore the lustre on light leaves
which are yellowish in colour will be a greenish yellow.
(G 28 v.)
The shadows of plants are never black, for where the
atmosphere penetrates there cannot be utter darkness.
(G 8 r.)
The leaf always turns its upper side towards the sky
so that it may be better able to receive over its whole
surface the dew which drops down with the slow move-
ment of the atmosphere ; and these leaves are arranged on
the pknts in such a way that one covers another as little
as possible, but they lie alternately one above the other
as is seen with the ivy which covers the walls. And this
alternation serves two ends ; that is in order to leave spaces
so that the air and the sun may penetrate between them,
and the second purpose of it is that the drops which
fall from the first leaf may fall on to the fourth, or on
to the sixth in the case of other trees. (G 27 *,)
The shadows on transparent leaves seen from beneath
are the same as those on the right side of the leaf, for
the shadow is visible in transparence on the under side"
as well as the part in light ; but the lustre can never be
seen in transparence. (G 3 *.)
Although leaves with a smooth surface are for the
most part of the same colour on the right side- as on the
reverse, it so happens that the side exposed to the atmo-
248 OF FOLIAGE
sphere partakes of the colour of the atmosphere, and
seems to partake of its colour more closely in proportion
as the eye is nearer to it and sees it more foreshortened.
And the shadows will invariably appear darker on the
right side than on the reverse through the contrast
caused by the high lights appearing against the shadow.
The under side of the leaf, although its colour in itself
may be the same as that of the right side, appears
more beautiful in colour; and this colour is a green
verging upon yellow ; and this occurs when this leaf is
interposed between the eye and the light which illumines
it from the opposite side. Its shadows also are in the
same positions as were those on the opposite side.
Therefore, O Painter, when you make trees near at
hand remember that when your eye is somewhat below
the level of the tree you will be able to see its leaves
some on the right side and some on the reverse ; and
the right sides will be a deeper blue as they are seen more
foreshortened, and the same leaf will sometimes show
part of the right side and part of the reverse, and conse-
quently you must make it of two colours.
(G 3 r. andz v.)
When there is one belt of green behind another, the
High lights on the leaves and their transparent lights
show more strongly than those which are against the
brightness of the atmosphere.
And if the sun illumines the leaves without these
coining between it and the eye, and without the eye
facing the sun, then the high lights and the transparent
lights of the leaves are extremely powerful.
STUDY OF TREE
Fact p. 248
OF DISTANT OBJECTS 249
It is very useful to make some of the lower branches,
and these should be dark, and should serve as a back-
ground for the illuminated belts of green which are at
some little distance from the first.
Of the darker greens seen from below, that part
is darkest which is nearest to the eye, that is to say which
is farthest from the luminous atmosphere. (G 4 r.)
Never represent leaves as though transparent in the
sun, because they are always indistinct ; and this comes
about because over the transparency of one leaf there
will be imprinted the shadow of another leaf which is
above it ; and this shadow has definite outlines and a
fixed density. And sometimes it is the half or third part
of the leaf which is in the shadow, and consequently the
structure of such a leaf is indistinct, and the imitation of
it is to be avoided.
The upper branches of the spreading boughs of trees
keep nearer to the parent bough than do those below.
That leaf is less transparent which takes the light at a
more acute angle. (G 4 r.)
OF THE WAY TO PRESENT DISTANT OBJECTS IN PAINTING
It is evident that the part of the atmosphere which
lies nearest the level ground is denser than the rest,
and that the higher it rises the lighter and more
transparent it becomes.-
In the case of large and lofty objects which are some
distance away from you, their lower parts will not be
much seen, because the line by which you should see
250 OF THE ATMOSPHERE
them passes through the thickest and densest portion of
the atmosphere. But the summits of these heights are
seen along a line which, although when starting from
your eye it is produced through the denser atmo-
sphere, yet since it ends at the highest summit of the
object seen, concludes its course in an atmosphere far
more rarefied than that of its base. And consequently
the farther away from you this line extends from point
to point the greater is the change in the finer quality of
the atmosphere.
Do you, therefore, O Painter, when you represent
mountains, see that from hill to hill the bases are always
paler than the summits, and the farther away you make
them one from another let the bases be paler in propor-
tion, and the loftier they are, the more they should
reveal their true shape and colour.
(MS. 2038, Jtf. Nat. 1 8 r.)
HOW THE ATMOSPHERE SHOULD BE REPRESENTED AS
PALER IN PROPORTION AS YOU SHOW IT EX-
TENDING LOWER
Since the atmosphere is dense near the ground, and
the higher it is the finer it becomes, therefore when the
sun is in the east and you look towards the west,
taking in a part to the north and to the south, you will
see that this dense air receives more light from the sun
than the finer air, because the rays encounter more
resistance. And if your view of the horizon is bounded
by a low plain, that farthest region of the sky will be
seen through that thicker whiter atmosphere, and this
will destroy the truth of the colour as seen through such a
OF THE ATMOSPHERE ayi
medium j and the sky will seem whiter there than it
does overhead, where the line of vision traverses a lesser
space of atmosphere charged with thick vapours. But if
you look towards the east the atmosphere will appear
darker in proportion as it is lower, for in this lower
atmosphere the luminous rays pass less freely.
(MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 18 *.)
250 OF THE ATMOSPHERE
them passes through the thickest and densest portion of
the atmosphere. But the summits of these heights are
seen along a line which, although when starting from
your eye it is produced through the denser atmo-
sphere, yet since it ends at the highest summit of the
object seen, concludes its course in an atmosphere far
more rarefied than that of its base. And consequently
the farther away from you this line extends from point
to point the greater is the change in the finer quality of
the atmosphere.
Do you, therefore, O Painter, when you represent
mountains, see that from hill to hill the bases are always
paler than the summits, and the farther away you make
them one from another let the bases be paler in propor-
tion, and the loftier they are, the more they should
reveal their true shape and colour.
(MS. 2038, #. Nat. 1 8 r.)
HOW THE ATMOSPHERE SHOULD BE REPRESENTED AS
PALER IN PROPORTION AS YOU SHOW IT EX-
TENDING LOWER
Since the atmosphere is dense near the ground, and
the higher it is the finer it becomes, therefore when the
sun is in the east and you look towards the west,
taking in a part to the north and to the south, you will
see that this dense air receives more light from the sun
than the finer air, because the rays encounter more
resistance. And if your view of the horizon is bounded
by a low plain, that farthest region of the sky will be
seen through that thicker whiter atmosphere, and this
will destroy the truth of the colour as seen through such a
OF THE ATMOSPHERE 251
medium ; and the sky will seem whiter there than it
does overhead, where the line of vision traverses a lesser
space of atmosphere charged with thick vapours. But if
you look towards the east the atmosphere will appear
darker in proportion as it is lower, for in this lower
atmosphere the luminous rays pass less freely.
(MS. 2038, Bib. Nat. 18 v.)
BOOK IV
FANTASY
FABLES
THE unhappy willow on finding herself unable to enjoy
the pleasure of seeing her slender boughs attain to such
a height as she desired, or even point towards the sky,
because she was continually being maimed and lopped
and spoiled for the sake of the vine or any other tree
which happened to be near, summoned up all her
faculties and by this means opened wide the portals of
her imagination, remaining in continual meditation, and
seeking in the world of plants for one wherewith to ally
herself which could not need the help of her branches.
So continuing for a time with her imagination at work,
the thought of the gourd suddenly presented itself to her
mind, and all her branches quivered in her intense joy,
for it seemed to her that she had found the right com-
panion for the purpose she desired, because the gourd is
by nature more fitted to bind others than to be bound
herself. After coming to this conclusion she lifted up
her branches towards the sky and waited, on the look-
out for some friendly bird to serve as the intermediary
of her desire. Among the rest she descried the magpie
near to her and said to him, *O gentle bird, by the
refuge you have lately found among my branches at
252
FABLES 253
dawn, when the hungry, cruel, and rapacious falcon has
wished to devour you, by that rest you have often found
in me when your wings craved rest, by those delights
you have enjoyed among my branches in amorous
dalliance with your companions, I entreat you to go and
seek out the gourd and obtain from her some of her
seeds, telling her that I will care for whatever is born
from them as though they were my own offspring, and in
like manner use all such words as may incline her to the
like purpose, though to you who are a master of language
there is no need for me to give instruction. If you will
do this I am content to let your nest be in the fork of
my boughs together with all your family without pay-
ment of any rent.' So the magpie after stipulating with
the willow for certain further conditions, the most
important being that she should never admit upon her
boughs any snake or polecat, cocked his tail and lowered
his head, and casting himself loose from the bough let
himself float on his wings ; and beating about with these
in the fleeting air, seeking hither and thither, and guid-
ing himself by using his tail as a rudder, he came to a
gourd, and after courteously saluting her obtained by
a few polite words the seeds for which he sought. On
taking these back to the willow he was welcomed with
joyful looks ; and then scraping away with his foot some
of the earth near the willow he planted the grains with
his beak round about her in a circle.
These soon began to grow, and as the branches increased
and opened out they began to cover all the branches of
the willow, and their great leaves shut away from it the
beauty of the sun and the sky. And all this evil not
354 FABLES
sufficing, the gourds next began to drag down to the
ground in their rude grip the tops of the slender boughs,
twisting and distorting them in strange shapes* Then
the willow after shaking and tossing herself to no
purpose to make the gourds loose their hold, and vainly
for days cherishing such idle hopes, since the grasp of
the gourds was so sure and firm as to forbid such
thoughts* seeing the wind pass by, forthwith commended
herself to it. And the wind blew hard; and it rent
open the willow's old and hollow trunk, tearing it in two
parts right down to its roots ; and as they fell asunder
she vainly bewailed her fate, confessing herself born to
no good end. (C. A. 67 r. &)
The thrushes rejoiced greatly on seeing a man catch
the owl and take away her liberty by binding her feet
with strong bonds. But then by means of birdlime the
owl was the cause of the thrushes losing not only their
liberty but even their life. This is said of those states
which rejoice at seeing their rulers lose their liberty, in
consequence of which they afterwards lose hope of
succour and remain bound in the power of their enemy,
losing their liberty and often life.
(C.A. 117 r. *.)
A certain patch of snow finding itself clinging to the
top of a rock which was perched on the extreme summit
of a very high mountain, being left to its own imagina-
tion began to reflect and to say within itself: * Shall I
not be thought haughty and proud for having placed
myself in so exalted a spot, being indeed a mere morsel
of snow ? And for allowing that such a vast quantity of
FABLES 255
snow as I see around me should take a lower place than
mine ? Truly my small dimensions do not deserve this
eminence ; and in proof of my insignificance I may
rcadily-acquaint myself with the fate which but yesterday
befell my companions who in a few hours were destroyed
by the sun ; and this came about from their having placed
themselves in a loftier station than was required of them.
I will flee from the wrath of the sun, arid abase myself,
and find a place that befits my modest size/
Then throwing itself down, it began to descend, rolling
down from the lofty crags on to the other snow ; and
the more it sought a lowly place, the more it increased
in bulk, until at last ending its course upon a hill it
fbund itself almost the equal in size of the hill on which
it rested, and it was the last of the snow which was
melted that summer by the sun.
This is said for those who by humbling themselves
are exalted* (C. J. 67 . &)
A nut which found itself carried by a crow to the top
of a lofty campanile, having there fallen into a crevice
and so escaped its deadly beak, besought the wall by that
grace which God had bestowed upon it in causing . it to
be so exalted and great, and so rich in having bells of
such beauty and of such mellow tone, that it would deign
to give it succour ; that insomuch as it had not been
able to drop beneath its old father's green branches and
lie in the fallow earth covered by his fallen leaves the
\*all would not abandon it, for when it found itself in
the fierce crow's cruel beak it had vowed that if it
escaped thence it would end its days in a small hole. At
256 FABLES
these words the wall, moved with compassion, was content
to give it shelter in the spot where it had fallen. And
within a short space of time the nut began to burst open
and to put its roots in among the crevices of the stones
and push them further apart and throw up shoots out
of its hollow, and these soon rose above the top of
the building ; and as the twisted roots grew thicker they
commenced to tear asunder the walls and force the
ancient stones out of their old positions. Then the wall too
late and in vain deplored the cause of its destruction,
and in a short time it was torn asunder and a great part
fell in ruin. (C. A. 67 r. a.)
The privet on feeling its tender branches, laden with
new fruit, pricked by the sharp claws and beak of the
troublesome blackbird, complained to her with pitiful re-
proaches beseeching her that even if she plucked off her
delicious fruit she would at any rate not deprive her of her
leaves which protected her from the scorching rays of the
sun, nor with her sharp claws rend away and strip bare
Jier tender bark. But to this the blackbird replied with
insolent rebuke : * Silence ! rude bramble ! Know you
not that nature has made you to produce these fruits for
my sustenance ? Cannot you 'see that you came into the
world in order to supply me with this very food ? Know
you not, vile thing that you are, that next winter you
will serve as sustenance and food for the fire?' To
which words the tree listened patiently and not without
tears.
But a short time afterwards the blackbird was caught
in a net, and some boughs were cut to make a cage in
FABLES 257
order to imprison her, and among the rest wore some
cut from the tender privet to serve for the rods of the
cage ; and these on perceiving that they would be the
cause of the blackbird being deprived of liberty rejoiced
and uttered these words : c We are here, O blackbird,
not yet consumed by the fire as you said ; we shall see
you in prison before you see us burnt.*
(C. A, 67 r. a.)
Some flames had already lived for a month in a glass
furnace when they saw a candle approaching in a beautiful
and glittering candlestick* They strove with great
longing to reach it; and one of their number left its
natural course and wound itself into an unburnt brand
upon which it fed, and then passed out at the other end
by a small cleft to the candle which was near, and flung
itself upon it, and devouring it with the utmost voracity
and greed consumed it almost entirely; then desirous
of prolonging its own life, it strove in vain to return
to the furnace which it had left, but was forced to
droop and die together with the candle. So at last in
lamentation and regret it was changed to foul smoke,
leaving all its sisters in glowing and abiding life and
beauty. (C. A. 67 r. *.)
The fig-tree standing near to the elm, and perceiving
that her boughs bore no fruit themselves, yet had the
hardihood to keep away the sun from her own, unripe
figs, rebuked her, saying : c O Elm, are you not ashamed
to stand in front of me ? Only wait until my children
are fully grown and you will see where you will find
yourself/ But when her offspring were ripe a regiment
258 FABLES
of soldiers came to the place, and they tore off the branches
of the fig-tree in order to take her figs and left her all
stripped and broken.
And as she thus stood maimed in all her limbs the
elm questioned her saying, * O Fig-tree, how much better
was it to be without children than to be brought by
them to so wretched a pass ? * (C. A. 76 r, 4.)
Once upon a time the razor emerging from the handle
which served it as a sheath, and placing itself in the sun,
saw the sun reflected on its surface, at which thing it
took great pride, and turning it over in its thoughts it
began to say to itself, * Am I to go back any more to
that shop from which I have just now come away ? No
surely ! It cannot be the pleasure of the gods that such
radiant beauty should stoop to such vile uses ! What
madness would that be which should induce me to scrape
the kthered chins of rustic peasants and to do such
menial service ! Is this body made for actions such as
these ? Certainly not ! I will go and hide myself in
some retired spot, and there pass my life in tranquil ease. 9
And so having hid itself away for some months, re-
turning one day to the light and coming out of its sheath
it perceived that it had acquired the appearance of a
rusty saw, and that its surface no longer reflected the
sun's radiance. In vain with useless repentance it be-
moaned its irreparable hurt, saying to itself, c Ah how
much better would it have been to have let the barber
use that lost edge of mine that had so rare a keenness !
Where now is the glittering surface ? In truth the foul
insidious rust has consumed it away ! '
FABLES 259
The same thing happens with minds which in Keu of
exercise give themselves up to sloth ; for these like the
razor lose their keen edge, and the rust of ignorance
destroys their form. (C. A. 175 *. a)
A stone of considerable size, only recently left un-
covered by the waters, stood in a certain spot perched up
at the edge of a delightful copse, above a stony road,
surrounded by plants bright with various flowers of dif-
ferent colours, and looked upon the great mass of stones
which lay heaped together in the road beneath. And she
became filled with longing to let herself down there, saying
within herself : * What am I doing here with these plants ?
I would fain dwell in the company of my sisters yonder ' ;
and so letting herself fall she ehded her rapid course
among her desired companions. But when she had been
there for a short time she found herself in continual
distress from the wheels of the carts, the iron hoofs of
the horses and the feet of the passers-by. One rolled her
over, another trampled upon her; and at times she
raised herself up a little as she lay covered with mud or
the dung of some animal, and vainly looked up at the
place from whence she had departed as a place of soli-
tude and quiet peace.
So it happens to those who leaving a life of solitude and
contemplation choose to come and dwell in cities among
people full of infinite wickedness. (C. A. 175 v. a.)
As the painted butterfly was idly wandering and flit-
ting about through the darkened air a light came within
sight, and thither immediately it directed its course, and
6o FABLES
flqw round about it in varying circles marvelling greatly
at such radiant beauty. And not contented merely to
behold, it began to treat it as* was its custom with the
fragrant flowers, and directing its flight it approached
with bold resolvp close to the light, which thereupon con-
sumed the tips of its wings and legs and the other extremi-
ties ;, and then dropping down at the foot of it, "it began
to consider with astonishment how this accident had
been brought about, for it could not so much as enter-
tain a thought that any evil or hurt could possibly come
to it from a thing so beautiful ; and then having in part
regained the strength which it had lost, it took another
flight and passed right through the body of the flame,
and in an instant fell down burned into the oil which
fed the flame, preserving only so much life as sufficed
it to reflect upon the cause of its destruction, saying to
it, ' O accursed light ! I thought that in you I had
found my happiness ! Vainly do I lament my mad
desire, and by my ruin I have come to know your
rapacious and destructive nature/
To which the light replied, r Thus do I treat whoever
does not know how to use me aright/
This is said for those who when they see before them
these carnal and worldly delights, hasten towards them
like the butterfly, without ever taking thought as to their
nature, which they know after long usage to their
shame and loss. (C. A. z$j r. &)
The flint on being struck by the steel marvelled
greatly and said to it in a stern voice, * What arrogance
prompts you to annoy me ? Trouble me not, for you
FABLES 261
have chosen me by mistake ; I have never done harm
to any one/ To which the steel made answer, c If you
will be patient you will see what a marvellous result will
issue forth from you/ At these words the flint was
pacified and patiently endured its martyrdom, and it saw
itself give birth to the marvellous element of fire which
by its potency became a factor in innumerable things.
This is said for those who are dismayed at the outset of
their studies, and then set out to gain the mastery over
themselves and in patience to apply themselves con-
tinuously to these studies, from which one sees result
things marvellous to relate. (C* A. 257 r. 6.)
The water on finding itself in the proud sea, its ele-
ment, was seized with a desire to rise above the air ; and
aided by the element of fire, having mounted up in thin
vapour, it seemed almost as thin as the air itself; and
after it had risen to a great height it came to where the
air was more rarefied and colder, and there it was aban-
doned by the fire ; and the small particles being pressed
together were united and became heavy ; and dropping
from thence its pride was put to rout, and it fell from
the sky and was then drunk up by -the parched earth,
where for a long time it lay imprisoned and did penance
for its sin. ($. K. M, a. ^ r.)
The lily planted itself down upon the bank of the
Ticino, and the stream carried away the bank and with
it the lily.
The oyster being thrown out with other fish near to
the sea from the house of a fisherman, prayed to a rat to
*62 FABLES
take him to the sea : the rat who was intending to de-
vour him, bade him open s but then as he bit him the
oyster squeezed his head and held it ; and the cat came
and killed him* (H 51 [3] v.)
The spider thinking to find repose within the key-
hole, found death. (C. A. 299 ?. .)
The knife, an artificial weapon deprives man of his
nails his natural weapon.
The mirror bore itself proudly holding the queen
mirrored within it, and after she has departed the mirror
remains. (S. K. M. /. 44 v.)
The paper on seeing itself all spotted by the obscure
blackness of the ink gneves at it, and the ink shows it
that by reason of the words composed upon it it becomes
the cause of its preservation. ($, K. M. in. 27 r.)
Loyalty. The cranes in order that their king may
not perish by their keeping bad guard stand round him
at night holding stones in their feet. Love, fear, and
reverence write these upon the three stones of the
cranes. (#118 [25 ?.] r.)
FOR WELL-DOING
By the branch of the nut-tree which is struck and
beaten just when it has brought its fruit to perfection,
is represented those who as the sequel of their illustrious
works are struck by envy in divers ways, (G 88 v .)
By the thorn upon which is grafted the good fruits is
meant that which is not of itself predisposed to virtue,
I'LATE iz
COLUMBINE
Fat* f. 262
ALLEGORIES 263
yet by the help of an instructor itself produces the most
useful virtues*
One pushes down another : by these cubes l are repre-
sented the life and conditions of mankind. (G 89 r.)
[FOR AN ALLEGORICAL REPRESENTATION]
II Moro, as the figure of Fortune with hair and robes
and with hands held in front, and Messer Gualtieri with
act of obeisance plucks him by the robes from below as
he presents himself before him.
Also Poverty as a hideous figure running behind a
youth, whom II Moro covers with the skirt of his robe
while he threatens the monster with his gilded sceptre.
(/i 38 [90]*.)
[FOR AN ALLEGORICAL REPRESENTATION]
II Moro with the spectacles and Envy represented
with lying Slander, and Justice black for II Moro.
Labour with the vine in her hand. (H 88 [40] v.)
The great bird will take its first flight upon the back
of the great swan, filling the whole world with amaze-
ment and filling all records with its fame ; and it will
bring eternal glory to the nest where it was born.
(SulPolo degli Uccetti, covtr, a r.)
To write thus clearly of the kite would seem to be my
destiny, because in the earliest recollections of my infancy
it seemed to me when I was in the cradle that a kite
came and opened my mouth with its tail and struck me
within upon the lips with its tail many times-
(C. A. 66, v, b.)
1 MS, has a diagram with dice.
a6 4 A FANTASTIC TALE
DEAR BENEDETTO, To give you the news of the
things here from the east, you must know that in the
month of June there appeared a giant who came from
the Libyan desert. This giant was born on Mount
Atlas, and was bkck, and he fought against Artaxerxes
with the Egyptians and Arabs, the Medes and Persians ;
he lived in the sea upon the whales, the great leviathans
and the ships. When the savage giant fell by reason
of the ground bring covered over with blood and mire,
it seemed as though a mountain had fallen ; whereat the
country [shook] as though there were an earthquake,
with terror to Pluto in hell, and Mars fearing for his
life fled for refuge under the side of Jove. 1 And from
the violence of the shock he lay prostrate on the level
ground as though stunned; until suddenly the people
believing that he had been killed by some thunderbolt,
began to turn about his great beard ; and like a flock
of ants that range about hither and thither furiously
among the brambles beaten down by the axe of the
sturdy peasant, so these are hurrying about over his
huge limbs and piercing them with frequent wounds.
At this the giant being roused, and perceiving himself
to be almost covered by the crowd, suddenly on feeling
himself smarting from their stabs, uttered a roar which
seemed as though it were a terrific peal of thunder, and
set his hands on the ground and lifted up his awe-
inspiring countenance ; and then placing one of his hands
1 MS. *Martc teroedo dela vita sera fugito sotto lato dj giovc/ These
words in Leonardo's writing occur at the side and are not found in the
transcript of the Italian edition. I have ventured to insert them where they
seemed to best fit the sense, and also* to change the order of some of the
sentences which are written in the margin.
A FANTASTIC TALE 265
upon his head, he perceived it to be covered with men
sticking to the hairs after the fashion of tiny creatures
which are sometimes harboured there, and who, as they
clung to the hairs and strove to hide among them, were
like sailors in a storm who mount the rigging in order
to lower the sail and lessen the force of the wind ; and
at this point he shook his head and sent the men flying
through the air after the manner of hail when it is driven
by the fury of the winds, and many of these men. were
found to be killed by those who fell on them Eke a tempest.
Then he stood erect, trampling upon them with his feet.
(C. j& 311 r. *.)
The bkck visage at first sight is most horrible and
terrifying to look upon, especially the swollen and blood-
shot eyes set beneath the awful lowering eyebrows which
cause the sky to be overcast and the earth to tremble.
And believe me there is no man so brave but that, when
the fiery eyes were turned upon him, he would willingly
have put on wings in order to escape, for the face of
infernal Lucifer would seem angelic by contrast with this.
The nose was turned up in a snout with wide nostrils
and sticking out of these were quantities of large bristles,
beneath which was the arched mouth, with the thick lips,
at whose extremities were hairs like those of cats, and
the teeth were yellow. He towered above the heads of
men on horseback from the top of his feet upwards.
And as his cramped position had been irksome, ancUn
order to rid himself of the importunity of the throng,
his rage turned to frenzy, and he began to let his feet
give vent to the frenzy which possessed his mighty limbs,
266 A FANTASTIC TALE
and entering in among the crowd he began by his kicks to
toss men up in the air, so that they fell down again upon
the rest as though there had been a thick storm of hail,
and many were those who in dying dealt out death. And
this barbarity continued until such time as the dust stirred
up by his great feet, rising up in the air, compelled his
infernal fury to abate, while we continued our flight.
Alas, how many attacks were made upon this raging
fiend to whom every onslaught was as nothing 1 O
wretched folk, for you there avail not the impregnable
fortresses, nor the lofty walls of your cities, nor the being
together in great numbers, nor your houses or palaces I
There remained not any place unless it were the tiny
holes and subterranean caverns where after the manner
of crabs and crickets and creatures like these you might
find safety and a means of escape. Oh, how many
wretched mothers and fathers were deprived of their
children ! How many unhappy women were deprived
of their companions ! In truth, my dear Benedetto, I
do not believe that ever since the world was created
there has been witnessed such lamentation and wailing
of people accompanied by so great terror. In truth,
the human species in such a plight has need to envy
every other race of creatures ; for though the eagle has
strength sufficient to subdue the other birds, they yet
remain unconquered through the rapidity of their flight,
and so the swallows through their speed escape becoming
the prey of the falcon, and the dolphins also by their
swift flight escape becoming the prey of the whales and
of the mighty leviathans ; but for us wretched mortals
there avails not any flight, since this monster when
PROPHECIES 367
advancing slowly far exceeds the speed of the swiftest
courser.
I know not what to say or do for everywhere I seem
to find myself swimming with bent head within the
mighty throat and remaining indistinguishable in death,
buried within the huge belly. (C. A. 96 v. b.)
PROPHECIES
THE DIVISIONS OF THE PROPHECIES
First of things which relate to the reasoning animals,
second those which have not the power of reason,
third of plants, fourth of ceremonies, fifth of customs,
sixth of propositions, decrees or disputes, seventh of
propositions contrary to nature (as to speak of a substance
which the more there is taken from it is the more in-
creased), and reserve the weighty propositions until the
end, and begin with those of less import, and show first
the evils and then the punishments, eighth of philosophical
things*
i
OF FOOD WHICH HAS BEEN ALIVE
A large part of the bodies which have had life will
pass into the bodies of other animals, that is the houses
no longer inhabited will pass piecemeal through those
which are inhabited, ministering to their needs and bear-
ing away with them what is waste ; that is to say that
the life of man is made by the things which he eats, and
that these carry with them that part of man which is
dead.
268 PROPHECIES
OF MEN WHO SLEEP UPON PLANKS MADE FROM TREES
Men will sleep and eat and make their dwelling among
trees grown in the forests and the fields.
OF DREAMING
It shall seem to men that they see new destructions in
the sky, and the flames descending therefrom shall seem
to have taken flight and to flee away in terror ; they
shall hear creatures of every kind speaking human lan-
guage ; they shall run in a moment in person to divers
parts of the world without movement ; amidst the dark-
ness they shall see the most radiant splendours. O
marvel of mankind ! What frenzy has thus impelled
you ! You shall hold converse with animals of every
species, and they with you in human language. You shall
behold yourselves falling from great heights without
suffering any injury ; the torrents will bear you with
them as they, mingle in their rapid course.
OF CHILDREN WHO ARE WRAPPED IN SWADDLING BANDS
O cities of the sea, I behold in you your citizens, women
as well as men, tightly bound with stout bonds around
their arms and legs by folk who will have no under-
standing of our speech ; and you will only be able to
give vent to your griefs and sense of loss of liberty by
making tearful complaints and sighs and lamentation
one to another, for those who bind you will not have
understanding of your speech nor will you understand
them. (C. A. 143 r, a.)
PROPHECIES 269
OF REAPERS
There will be many who will be moving one against
another, holding in their hands the sharp cutting iron.
These will not do each other any hurt other than that
caused by fatigue, for as one leans forward the other
draws back an equal space ; but woe to him who inter-
venes between them, for in the end he will be left cut in
pieces.
OF THOSE WHO ARE BEATEN AND SCOURGED
Men will hide themselves within the bark of hollow
trees, and there crying aloud they will make martyrs of
themselves by beating their own limbs.
OF DREAMING
Men shall walk without moving, they shall speak with
those who are absent, they shall hear those who do not
speak.
OF SOLDIERS ON HORSEBACK
Many shall be seen carried by large animals with great
speed to the loss of their lives and to instant death.
In the air and on the earth shall be seen animals of
different colours bearing men furiously to the destruc-
tion of their lives. (C. A. 370 r. a.)
You shall behold the bones of the dead by their rapid
movement directing the fortunes of their mover : The
dice. (1 64 [16] v.)
Men will deal rude blows to that which is the cause
of their life : They will thrash the grain.
270 PROPHECIES
The skins of animals will make men rouse from their
silence with loud cries and oaths : Balls for playing
games.
The wind which passes through the skins of animals
will make men leap up : That is the bag-pipes which
cause men to dance. (/ [65] 17 r.)
OF CHILDREN WHO TAKE THE BREAST
Many Franciscans, Dominicans, and Benedictines will
eat that which has recently been eaten by others, and
they will remain many months before being able to
speak. (/6 7 [i 9 ]r.)
OF SHOEMAKERS
Men will take a pleasure in seeing their own works
worn out and destroyed. (s. K. M. a. 61 *.)
ii
OF ANTS
Many communities will there be who will hide them-
selves and their young and their victuals within gloomy
caverns, and there in dark places will sustain themselves
and their families for many months without any light
either artificial or natural.
OF BEES
And many others will be robbed of their store of
provisions and their food, and by an insensate folk
will be cruelly immersed and drowned* O justice
of God ! why dost thou not awake to behold thy
creatures thus abused ?
PROPHECIES 271
OF SHEEP, COWS, GOATS AND THE LIKE
From countless numbers will be stolen their little
children, and the throats of these shall be cut, and they
shall be quartered most barbarously.
OF CATS THAT EAT RATS
In you, O cities of Africa ! your own, sons shall be
seen torn to pieces within their own houses by most
cruel and savage animals of your country.
OF ASSES WHICH ARE BEATEN
O neglectful nature, wherefore art thou thus partial,
becoming to some of thy children a tender and benig-
nant mother, to others a most cruel and ruthless step-
mother ? I see thy children given into slavery to others
without ever receiving any benefit, and in lieu of any
reward for the services they have done for them they
are repaid by the severest punishments, and they con-
stantly spend their lives in the service of their oppressor.
(C. A. 145 r. a.)
OF SNAKES CARRIED BY SWANS
Serpents of huge size will be seen at an immense
height in the air fighting with birds. (C. A. 129 v. a.)
OF THE BELLS OF MULES WHICH ARE CLOSE TO
THEIR EARS
There shall be heard in many parts of Europe instru-
ments of various sizes making divers melodies, causing
great weariness to those who hear them most closely.
272 PROPHECIES
OF ASSES
The many labours shall be repaid by hunger, thirst,
wretchedness, blows, and goadings.
OF THE HAFTS OF KNIVES MADE OF RAMS* HORNS
In the horns of animals shall be seen sharp irons which
shall take away the lives of many of their species.
(C. A. 370 r. a.)
OF BOWS MADE FROM THE HORNS OF OXEN
Many there will be who by means of the horns of
cattle will die a painful death. (C. A. 370 v. a.)
You will see the lion tribe tearing open the earth with
hooked claws, and burying themselves in the holes that
they have made together with the other animals which
are in subjection to them.
There shall come forth from the ground creatures clad
in darkness who shall attack the human race with tre-
mendous onslaughts, and it shall have the blood poisoned
by their fierce bites even while it is devoured by
them.
There shall also hurtle through the air a tribe of
dreadful winged creatures who shall attack both men and
beasts and feed upon them with loud cries, They shall
fill their bellies full of crimson blood. (/ 63 [15] r.)
Oxen shall by their horns protect the fire from death :
The lantern. (/ 64 [16] p.)
PROPHECIES 273
OF COCKLES AND SEA-SNAILS CAST UP BY THE SEA
WHICH ROT WITHIN THEIR SHELLS
How many shall there be who after they are dead will
lie rotting in their own houses, filling all the air around
with their foul stench. (/ 67 [19] r.)
OF KIDS
The time of Herod shall return ; for the innocent
children shall be torn away from their nurses and shall
die of great wounds at the hands of cruel men.
(8. JE, jlf. & 9 v.)
The oxen will become in great part the cause of the
destruction of cities and so likewise will horses and
buffaloes : They draw the guns. (B. M* 263, Ar. 42 *,)
in
OF NUTS, OLIVES, ACORNS, CHESTNUTS, AND THE LIKE
Many children shall be torn with pitiless beatings out
of the very arms of their mothers and flung upon the
ground and then maimed. (C. A. 145 r. a.)
OF WOOD THAT IS BURNT
The trees and shrubs of the vast forests shall be
changed to ashes.
OF FLAX WHEREBY PAPER IS MADE OUT OF RAGS
That shall be revered and honoured and its precepts
shall be listened to with reverence and love, which was
at first despised and mangled and tortured with many
different blows".
PROPHECIES
OF WOODEN COFFERS WHICH ENCLOSE MANY TREASURES
Within walnuts and other trees and plants there shall
be found very great treasures which lie hidden there.
(C. A. 370 r. a.)
The forests will bring forth young who will become
the cause of their death. The handle of the hatchet.
(7 64 [16]*),
OF NUT TREES WHICH ARE BEATEN
Those which have done best will be most beaten, and
their children will be carried off and stripped or de-
spoiled, and their bones broken and crushed.
(7 65 [17] *)
OF TREES WHICH GIVE SAP TO GRAFTED SHOOTS
Fathers and mothers shall be seen to bestow much
more attention upon their step-children than upon their
own children. (B. M. 263, Ar. 212 .)
OF THE MOWING DOWN OF GRASS
Innumerable lives will be extinguished, and innumer-
able vacant spaces created upon the earth.
(S. K. M. u. 34. r.)
IV
OF CHRISTIANS
There are many who hold the faith of the Son and
only build temples in the name of the Mother.
(C. A, 145 r. *)
PLATE 13
RANUNCULUS REI'ENS ORNITHOGALIM I MHELLIFERL'M ANEMONE NEMOROSA
(Cr,,f>v\ Crwtfa) (Star of Btt&Mfm) (Wood Anemone]
EIPHORBIA KSl'LA
(Ltafy'Rrdncitfd fy
Face /. 274
PROPHECIES 175
OF FUNERAL RITES AND PROCESSIONS AND LIGHTS
AND BELLS AND FOLLOWERS
The greatest honours and ceremonies shall be paid to
men without their knowledge. (C. A. 145 *. *.)
OF THE WORSHIPPING OF PICTURES OF SAINTS
Men shall speak with men who shall not hear them ;
their eyes shall be open and they shall not see; they
will speak to them and there shall be no reply; they
will ask pardon from one who has ears and does not
hear; they will offer light to one who is blind, and to
the deaf they will appeal with loud clamour. 1
OF THR LAMENTATIONS MADE ON GOOD FRIDAY
In all the parts of Europe there shall be lamentations
by great nations for the death of one man. 2
(C. A. 370 r. a,)
OF REMOVING ON ALL SAINTS* DAY
Many shall leave their own dwellings and shall carry
with them all their goods and go to dwell in other lands.
OF ALL SOULS* DAY
How many will there be who will mourn for their
dead ancestors, carrying lights for them !
OF FRIARS WHO BY SPENDING ONLY WORDS RECEIVE
GREAT RICHES AND BESTOW PARADISE
Invisible money will cause many who spend it to
triumph. (C. J. 370 * a.)
* MS. 'ftran tome a [chi] I orbo [. . .] lordi con gran [. . ,]ore.*
* ' Who died in the East ' follows in MS. but it crossed out
276 PROPHECIES
OF THE RELIGION OF THE FRIARS WHO LIVE BY MEANS
OF THE SAINTS WHO HAVE BEEN DEAD FOR A
LONG TIME
Those who are dead will after a thousand years be
those who will make provision for many of the living*
(/ 66 [18] *,)
OF PRIESTS WHO SAY MASS
Many shall there be who in order to practise their
calling shall put on the richest vestments, and these shall
seem to be made after the manner of aprons.
OF FRIARS WHO HOLD CONFESSION
The unhappy women of their own accord shall go to
reveal to men all their wantonness and their shameful
and most secret acts.
OF THE CHURCHES AND HABITATIONS OF FRIARS
There will' be many who will abandon work and
labour and poverty of life and possessions, and will go
to dwell among riches and in splendid buildings, pre-
tending that this is a means of becoming acceptable
to God.
OF THE SELLI'.x OF PARADISE
A countless multitude wui sell publicly and without
hindrance things of the very greatest value without
licence from the Lord of these things, which were never
theirs nor in their power ; and human justice will take
no account of this.
PROPHECIES 277
OF THE DEAD WHO ARE TAKEN TO BE BURIED
The simple folk will carry a great number of lights
to light up the journeys of all those who have wholly
lost the power of sight ! O human folly ! O madness
of mankind! These two phrases stand for the com-
mencement of the matter. (C. A. 370 ?. a.)
OF SCULPTURE
Alas ! whom do I see ? The Saviour crucified again.
OF CRUCIFIXES WHICH ARE SOLD
I see Christ again sold and crucified and His saints
suffering martyrdom. (/ 66 [18] v.)
OF PRIESTS WHO BEAR THE HOST IN THEIR BODIES
Then almost all the tabernacles where dwells the
Corpus Domini will be plainly visible walking about of
themselves on the different roads of the world*
(7 65 [17],.)
OF THE THURIBLE WITH INCENSE
Some shall go about in white vestments with arrogant
gestures threatening others with metal a$d fire, which
yet have never done them any harm.
(. M.263>4r. 212 &)
And many have made a trade in deceits and feigned
miracles, cozening the foolish herd, and if ho one
showed himself cognisant of their deceits they would
impose them upon all. (F 5 *.)
278 PROPHECIES
Frati Santi spells Pharisees. (Tr. Tav. 63 a.)
That shall be drowned which supplies the light for
divine service : The bees which make the wax for
the candles. (B. M. 263, Ar. 42 .}
OF SILK SPINNING
There shall be heard mournful cries, and loud shrieks,
hoarse, angry voices of those who are tortured and
despoiled and at kst left naked and motionless ; and
this shall be by reason of the motive power which turns
the whole.
OF FEATHERS IN BEDS
Flying creatures will support men with their
feathers.
OF THE SOLES OF SHOES WHICH ARE OF LEATHER
Over a great part of the country men shall be seen
walking about on the skins of large animals.
OF A STICK WHICH IS A DEAD THING
The movement of the dead shall cause many who
are living to flee away with grief and lamentation
and cries.
OF BEATING THE BED TO REMAKE IT
To such a pitch of ingratitude shall men come that
that which shall give them lodging without any price
shall be loaded with blows, in such a way that great parts
of the inside of it shall be detached from their place and
shall be turned over and over within it.
PROPHECIES 279
OF SHIPS THAT FOUNDER
There shall be seen huge bodies devoid of life, carrying
great numbers of men with fierce speed to the destruc-
tion of their lives. (C. A. 370 r. a)
OF SAILING IN SHIPS
The trees of the vast forests of Taurus and of Sinai, of
the Apennines and of Adas l shall be seen speeding by
means of the air from East to West, and from North to
South, and transporting by means of the air a great
quantity of men. O, how many vows ! How many
deaths ! What partings 'twixt friends and rektives shall
there be ! How many who shall never more behold
their own lands or their native country, and shall die un-
sepulchred and their bones be scattered in divers parts
of the world. (C. A. 370 v. a.)
Feathers shall raise men even as they do birds towards
heaven : That is by letters written with their quills.
(/6 4 [i6]g
Many times the thing that is severed becomes the cause
of great union : That is the comb made up of split* canes
which unites the threads in the silk. (/ 65 [17] r.)
And those who feed the air will turn night into
day : Tallow. (/ 66 [i 8] r.)
OF DOCTORS WHO LIVE UPON THE SICK
Men will come to such a state of misery that they will
be grateful that others should profit by their sufferings,
or by the loss of their true riches, that is health.
i MS.'talas.*
a8o PROPHECIES
OF CANNON WHICH COME FORTH OUT OF A PIT
AND FROM A MOULD
There shall come forth from beneath the ground that
which by its terrific report shall stun all who are near it
and cause men to drop dead at its breath, and it shall
devastate cities and castles. (C. A. 129 v. *.)
OF CORN AND OTHER SEEDS
Men shall throw away out of their houses those
victuals which were meant for the sustenance of their
lives. (A M. 263, Ar. 212 b.)
Many there will be who will wax great in destruc-
tion : The ball of snow rolling over the snow.
There will be a great host, who, forgetful of their exist-
ence and their name, will lie as dead upon the spoils of
other dead : Sleeping upon the feathers of birds.
Oh! how many great buildings will be ruined by
reason of fire : By the fire of the guns.
(A M. 263, AT. 42 b.)
VI
OF PLOUGHED LAND
The earth will be seen turned upside down and facing
the opposite hemispheres, and laying bare the holes
where lurk the fiercest animals.
OF BRICKKILNS AND LIMEKILNS
At the last the earth will become red after being
exposed to fire for many days, and the stones will
become changed to ashes.
PROPHECIES 281
OF BOOKS WHICH INCULCATE PRECEPTS
Bodies without souls shall by their sayings supply
precepts which shall help us to die well.
OF THE SHADOW THAT MOVES WITH MAN
There shall be seen shapes and figures of men and
animals which shall pursue these men and animals where-
soever they flee ; and the movements of the one shall be
as those of the other, but it shall seem a thing to wonder
at because of the different dimensions which they assume.
(C. .
OF THE SHADOW CAST BY MAN AT NIGHT WITH A LIGHT
There shall appear huge figures in human shape, and
the nearer to you they approach the more will their
immense size diminish. (K 50 [i] ?.)
OF THE SHADOW CAST BY THE SUN AND OF THE RE-
FLECTION IN THE WATER SEEN AT ONE AND THE
SAME TIME
Many times one man shall be seen to change into
three and all shall proceed together, and often the one
that is most real abandons him.
OF THE WALLS OF CITIES REFLECTED IN THE
WATER OF THEIR TRENCHES
The high walls of mighty cities shall be seen inverted
in their trenches.
280 PROPHECIES
OF CANNON WHICH COME FORTH OUT OF A PIT
AND FROM A MOULP
There shall come forth from beneath the ground that
which by its terrific report shall stun all who are near it
and cause men to drop dead at its breath, and it shall
devastate cities and castles. (C. A. 129 v. a.)
OF CORN AND OTHER SEEDS
Men shall throw away out of their houses those
victuals which were meant for the sustenance of their
lives. (A M. 263, Ar. 212 3.)
Many there will be who will wax great in destruc-
tion : The ball of snow rolling over the snow.
There will be a great host, who, forgetful of their exist-
ence and their name, will lie as dead upon the spoils of
other dead : Sleeping upon the feathers of birds.
Oh! how many great buildings will be ruined by
reason of fire : By the fire of the guns.
(A M. 263, Ar. 42 *.)
VI
OF PLOUGHED LAND
The earth will be seen turned upside down and facing
the opposite hemispheres, and laying bare the holes
where lurk the fiercest animals.
OF BRICKKILNS AND LIMEKILNS
At the last the earth will become red after being
exposed to fire for many days, and the stones will
become changed to ashes.
PROPHECIES 281
OF BOOKS WHICH INCULCATE PRECEPTS
Bodies without souls shall by their sayings supply
precepts which shall help us to die well.
OF THE SHADOW THAT MOVES WITH MAN
There shall be seen shapes and figures of men and
animals which shall pursue these men and animals where-
soever they flee ; and the movements of the one shall be
as those of the other, but it shall seem a thing to wonder
at because of the different dimensions which they assume*
(C. J. 370 r. *.)
OF THE SHADOW CAST BY MAN AT NIGHT WITH A LIGHT
There shall appear huge figures in human shape, and
the nearer to you they approach the more will their
immense size diminish. (X 50 [i] *.)
OF THE SHADOW CAST BY THE SUN AND OF THE RE-
FLECTION IN THE WATER SEEN AT ONE AND THE
SAME TIME
Many times one man shall be seen to change into
three and all shall proceed together, and often the one
that is most real abandons him.
OF THE WALLS OF CITIES REFLECTED IN THE
WATER OF THEIR TRENCHES
The high walls of mighty cities shall be seen inverted
in their trenches.
PROPHECIES
OF THE WATER WHICH FLOWS IN A TURBID STREAM
MINGLED WITH EARTH, AND OF THE DUST AND
MIST MINGLING WITH THE AIR AND OF THE FIRE
WHICH MINGLES ITS HEAT WITH EACH
All the elements shall be seen confounded together,
surging in huge rolling mass, now towards the centre of
the earth, now towards the sky ; at one time coursing in
fury from the southern regions towards the icy North,
at another time from the East to the West, and so again
from this hemisphere to the other.
OF THE NIGHT WHEN ONE CANNOT DISTINGUISH
ANY COLOUR
It shall even come to pass that it will be impossible to
tell the difference between colours, for all will become
black in hue.
OF SWORDS AND SPEARS WHICH OF THEMSELVES
NEVER DO HARM TO ANY ONE
That which of itself is gentle and void of all offence
will become terrible and ferocious by reason of evil
companionship, and will take the lives of many people
with the utmost cruelty ; and it would sky many more
if it were not that these are protected by "bodies which
are themselves without life, which have come forth out
of pits, that is by cuirasses of iron.
OF FIRE
From small beginnings shall arise that which shall
rapidly become great ; and it shall have respect for no
PROPHECIES 8 3
created thing, but its power shall be such as to enable
it to transform almost everything from its natural
condition. (C. A. 370 r. <*.)
OF WRITING LETTERS FROM ONE COUNTRY TO ANOTHER
Men from the most remote countries shall speak one
to another and shall reply.
OF THE HEMISPHERES WHICH ARE INFINITE AND DIVIDED
BY AN INFINITE NUMBER OF LINES IN SUCH A
WAY THAT EVERY MAN HAS ALWAYS ONE OF THESE
LINES BETWEEN HIS FEET
Men shall speak with and touch and embrace each
other while standing each in different hemispheres, and
shall understand each other's language.
(C. A. 370 r. a.)
The works of men's hands will become the cause of
their death : Swords and spears. (764 [16] *.)
OF STONES CHANGED INTO LIME WITH WHICH
PRISON WALLS ARE BUILT
Many things which have previously been destroyed by
fire will deprive many men of their liberty.
(/66[i8]r.)
VII
You shall see plants continuing without leaves and
rivers standing still in their courses.
The water of the sea shall rise above the high summits
of the mountains towards the sky, and it shall fall down
again on to the dwellings of men : That is as clouds.
*8 4 PROPHECIES
Men shall cast away thtir own food : That is in
sowing. (I6s[is]t>.)
The generation of men shall come to such a pass as
not to understand one another's speech: That is a
German with a Turk.
Men shall come forth out of the graves changed to
winged creatures, and they shall attack other men, taking
away their food even from their hands and tables:
The flies.
Many there will be who will flay their own mother
and fold back her skin : The tillers of the ground.
(76 4 [i6]r.)
Many creatures of the earth and of the water will
mount up among the stars : The Planets.
You shajl see the dead carrying the living in divers
parts of the world : The chariots and ships.
From many the food shall be taken away out of their
mouths : From ovens.
And those who have their mouths filled by the
hands of others shall have the food taken away out of
their mouths : The oven. (/ 66 [18] r.)
Snow in summer shall be gathered on the high moun-
tain peaks and carried to warm places, and there be let
to fall down when festivals are held in the piazza in the
time of summer. (Sul Polo degli Vccelli, 14 [i 3] r.)
^^
The east shall be seen to rush into the west and the
south to the north, whirling themselves round about
the universe with great noise and trembling : The
wind from the east. which rushes into the west
PROPHECIES 285
The rays of the sun will kindle fire on the earth
whereby shall be set alight that which is beneath the
sky, and reflected by whatever withstands their course
they will turn downwards : The concave mirror kindles
the fire with which the oven is heated, and this has a
foundation that stands beneath its roof.
A great part of the sea will fly towards the sky,
and for a long time it will not return : That is in
clouds.
There remains the motion which separates the mover
from the thing moved.
The dead shall come forth from under the earth, and
by their fierce movements shall drive out of the world
innumerable human creatures : The iron which comes
from under the earth is dead, and it makes the weapons
wherewith so many men have been slain.
The greatest mountains even though they are remote
from the sea borders will drive the sea from its place :
That is by the rivers which carry down the soil they
have taken from the mountains and deposit it upon
the seashores; and where the earth comes the sea
retires.
The water fallen from the clouds, which continue to
move along the bases of the mountains, will stay for a
long time without making any movement, and this will
take place in many and divers regions : Snow which
falls in flakes, which is water.
The great rocks of the mountains will dart forth fire,
286 PROPHECIES
such that they will burn up the timber of many vast
forests and many beasts both wild and tame : The flint
of the tinder-box, which makes a fire that consumes all
the loads of faggots of which the forests are cleared,
and with this the flesh of beasts is cooked.
(B. M. 263, Ar. 42 6.)
VIII
OF ADVICE
He who shall be most necessary to whoever has need
of him will be unknown, and if known will be held of
less account. (C. A. 37 v. <r.)
All those things which in the winter are concealed and
hidden beneath the snow will be left bare and exposed
in summer : Said of a lie which cannot remain hidden.
(I 39 *>)
OF THE FEAR OF POVERTY
The malevolent and- terrifying thing shall of itself
strike such terror into men that almost like madmen
while thinking to escape from it they will rush in swift
course upon its boundless forces. (C* A. 37 v. **)
Happy will be those who give ear to the words of the
dead : The reading of good books and the observing
of their precepts. (/ 64 1 16] r.)
Men will pursue the thing they most fear : That is
they will be miserable lest they should fall into misery.
Things severed shall be united and shall acquire of
themselves such virtue that they shall restore to men
PROPHECIES 287
their lost memory : That is, the papyrus sheets which
are formed out of severed strips and preserve the
memory of the thoughts and deeds of men*
OF THE SKINS OF ANIMALS WHICH HAVE THE SENSE
OF FEELING OF WHAT IS WRITTEN THERE
The more you converse with skins covered over with
sentiments, the more you will acquire wisdom.
OF THE MOUTH OF MAN WHICH IS A TOMB
There shall come forth loud noises out of the tombs
of those who have died by an evil and violent death.
(/6 S [i 7 ]rO
OF THE AVARICIOUS
Many there shall be who with the utmost zeal and
solicitude will pursue furiously that which has always filled
them with awe, not knowing its evil nature.
OF MEN WHO AS THEY GROW OLDER BECOME MORE
MISERLY, WHEREAS HAVING BUT A SHORT TIME TO
STAY THEY OUGHT TO BE MORE GENEROUS
You will see that those who are considered to be of
most experience and judgment, in proportion as they
come to have less need of things, seek and hoard them
with more eagerness. (C. A. 370 % a.)
OF MONEY AND GOLD
That shall come forth from hollow caves which shall
cause aH the nations of the world to toil and sweat with
great agitation, anxiety and labour, in order to gain its
(C. jt. 37 9. c.)
288 PROPHECIES
OF THB PRECIOUS METALS
There shall come forth out of dark and gloomy caves
that which shall cause the whole human race to undergo
great afflictions, perils, and death* To many of those
who follow it, after much tribulation it will yield delight ;
but whosoever pays it no homage will die in want and
misery. It shall bring to pass an endless number of
crimes; it shall .prompt and incite wretched men to
assassinate, to steal, and to enslave; it shall hold its
own followers in suspicion ; it shall deprive free cities of
their rank ; it shall take away life itself from many ; it
shall make men torment each other with many kinds of
subterfuge, deceits and treacheries*
O vile monster ! How much better were it for men
that them shouldst go back to hell ! For this the vast
forests shall be stripped of their trees ; for this an infinite
number of creatures shall lose their lives.
(C. A, 370 r. *.)
OF THE DOWRIES OF MAIDENS
And whereas at first young maidens could not be
protected from the lust and violence of men, either by
the watchfulness of parents or by the strength of walls,
there will come a time when it will be necessary for the
fathers and relatives of these maidens to pay a great
price to whoever is willing to marry them, even although
they may be rich and noble and exceedingly beautiful.
Herein it seems certain that nature desires to exterminate
the human race, as a thing useless to the world and the
destroyer of all created things*
PROPHECIES 289
OF THE CRUELTY OF MAH
Creatures shall be seen upon the earth who will always
be fighting one with another with very great losses and
frequent deaths on dither side. These shall set no bounds
to their malice ; by their fierce limbs a great number of
the trees in the immense forests of the world shall be
laid level with the ground ; and when they have crammed
themselves with food it shall gratify their desire to deal
out death, affliction, labours, terrors, and banishment to
every living thing* And by reason of their boundless
pride they shall wish to rise towards heaven, but the
excessive weight of their limbs shall hold them down.
There shall be nothing remaining on the earth or under
the earth or in the waters that shall not be pursued and
molested or destroyed, and that which is in one country
taken away to another ; and their own bodies shall be
made the tomb and the means of transit of all the living
bodies which they have slain. O Earth ! what delays thee
to open and hurl them headlong into the deep fissures of
thy huge abysses and caverns, and no longer to display
in the sight of heaven so savage and ruthless a monster ?
(C. A. 370 v. a.}
FINIS